Britannia needs no bulwarks,
No towers along the steep;
Her march is o'er the mountain waves,
Her home is on the deep:
With thunders from her native oak,
She quells the floods below,
As they roar on the shore,
When the stormy tempests blow;
When the battle rages long and loud,
And the stormy tempests blow.
The meteor-flag of England
Shall yet terrific burn,
Till danger's troubled night depart,
And the star of peace return.
Then, then, ye ocean-warriors!
Our song and feast shall flow
To the fame of your name,
When the storm has ceased to blow;
When the fiery fight is heard no more,
And the storm has ceased to blow.
CAMPBELL.
* * * * *
KAFFIR LETTER-CARRIER.
"I knew" (says the pleasing writer of "Letters from Sierra Leone") "that
the long-looked-for vessel had at length furled her sails and dropped
anchor in the bay. She was from England, and I waited, expecting every
minute to feast my eyes upon at least one letter; but I remembered how
unreasonable it was to suppose that any person would come up with
letters to this lonely place at so late an hour, and that it behoved me
to exercise the grace of patience until next day.
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