Long had this favour’d isle enjoy’d
True comforts, past expressing,
When France her hellish arts employ’d
To rob us of each blessing:
These from our hearths by force to tear
(Which long we’ve learned to cherish)
Our frantic foes shall vainly dare;
We’ll keep ’em or we’ll perish—
And every day our song shall be,
“O give us Death—or Victory!”