Meantime, as we return, in pride of conquest,
Let us impress the minds of Englishmen
With new-won glories of the House of York.
Strike drum!—Sound trumpet!—Let the air be rent,
With high and martial songs of victory.
GRAND CHORUS.
Strike!—the God of Conquest sheds
His choicest laurels on our heads:
Mars, with fury-darting eye,
Smooths his brow, and stalks before us;