Brittish Warrior

Brittain through many an age renown’d,

By victory oft triumphant crown’d,

Saw all her lands bloom anew

To grace the field of Waterloo;

That glorious field beheld attain’d,

The brightest wreath she ever gain’d,

The gallic eagle tow’d on high

And seem’d to flut the redd’ning sky

[Iernes] Phœnix rose above

The craven bird of [mimic] jove

And low the imperial eagle lies

A gallant brittish warriors prize

Blest in their country’s loud acclaim

All rich in Honors wealth and fame

Behold our conquering soldiers come

And joyous to their happy home

The spoils with willing homage bear

A Prize to grace the brittish fair.