Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE BARDS; TO THE SOLDIERS OF CARACTACUS, by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE BARDS; TO THE SOLDIERS OF CARACTACUS, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Valiant sons of freedom's land
Last Line: Free as the light, the wave, the wind!
Alternate Author Name(s): Browne, Felicia Dorothea
Subject(s): Bards; Caratacus (1st Century); Great Britain - Roman Conquest; Patriotism; War


VALIANT sons of freedom's land,
Ardent, firm, devoted band,
Rise, at honour's thrilling call:
Warriors, arm! shall Britain fall?
Rush, battle-steed,
Bleed, soldiers, bleed!
For Britain's throne, for glory's meed.

Heroes! to the combat fly,
Proud to struggle, blest to die;
Go! should death your efforts crown
Mount the pinions of renown;
Go! tell our sires,
Their daring fires,
Glow in our lofty souls, till life expires

Tell them, ne'er shall Britain yield
Whilst a hand the sword can wield
Tell them, we the strife maintain,
Tell them, we defy the chain!
In heart the same,
In patriot-flame
We emulate their brightest fame.

Shades of sainted chiefs! be near,
Smile on Albion's lifted spear,
Point the falchion, guide the car,
Flaming through the ranks of war,
Rise on the field,
With sword and shield,
To British eyes in forms of light revealed.

Spark of freedom, blaze on high,
Wilt thou quiver? shalt thou die?
Never, never, holy fire!
Mount, irradiate! beam, aspire!
Our foes consume,
Our swords illume,
And chase the dark horizon's gloom.

Shall the Roman arms invade
Mona's dark and hallowed shade?
By the dread, mysterious wand,
Waving in the Druid's hand;
By every rite,
Of Mona's night,
Arm, warriors! arm; in sacred cause unite

Honour! while thy bands disdain
Slavery's dark, debasing chain;
Britain! while thy sons are free,
Dauntless, faithful, firm for thee,
Mona! while at thy command,
Ardent bold, sublime, they stand;
Proud foes in vain,
Prepare the chain,
For Albion unsubdued shall reign.

Lo! we see a flame divine
Blaze o'er Mona's awful shrine!
Lo! we hear a voice proclaim
"Albion, thine, immortal fame;"
Arise, ye brave,
To bleed, to save,
Though proud in pomp, yon Roman eagles wave.

Caesar, come! in tenfold mail,
Will thine arms like ours avail?
Caesar! let thy falchions blaze,
Will they dim fair Freedom's rays?
Caesar! boast thy wide control,
Canst thou chain th' aspiring soul?
What steel can bind,
The soaring mind,
Free as the light, the wave, the wind!





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