Who now intrepid lift the generous blade,
The cause of Justice and Castile to aid!
Ye sons of Albion! by your country’s name,
Her crown of glory, her unsullied fame;
Oh! by the shades of Cressy’s martial dead,
By warrior-bands at Agincourt who bled;
By honours gain’d on Blenheim’s fatal plain,
By those in Victory’s arms at Minden slain;
By the bright laurels Wolfe immortal won,
Undaunted spirit! valour’s favourite son!