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 Be theirs, be theirs unfading honour's crown, The living amaranths of bright renown! Be theirs th' inspiring tribute of applause, Due to the champions of their country's cause! Be theirs the purest bliss that virtue loves, The joy when conscience whispers and approves! When every heart is fired, each pulse beats high, To fight, to bleed, to fall, for liberty; When every hand is dauntless and prepared The sacred charter of mankind to guard; When Britain's valiant sons their aid unite, Fervent and glowing still for freedom's right, Bid ancient enmities for ever cease, And ancient wrongs forgotten sleep in peace. When, firmly leagued, they join the patriot band, Can venal slaves their conquering arms withstand? Can fame refuse their gallant deeds to bless? Can victory fail to crown them with success? Look down, O Heaven! the righteous cause maintain, Defend the injured, and avenge the slain! Despot of France! destroyer of mankind! What spectre-cares must haunt thy sleepless mind! Oh! if at midnight round thy regal bed, When soothing visions fly thine aching head; When sleep denies thy anxious cares to calm, And lull thy senses in his opiate balm; Invoked by guilt, if airy phantoms rise, And murder'd victims bleed before thine eyes; Loud let them thunder in thy troubled ear, "Tyrant! the hour, th' avenging hour is near!"