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TIIE BOOK

OF

MODERN SONGS.

GOD SAVE THE QUEEN!

GOD save our gracious Queen!
Long may Victoria reign:
God save the Queen!
Send her victorious,
Happy, and glorious,
Long to reign over us,
God save the Queen!

O Lord our God arise,
Scatter her enemies,

And make them fall.
Confound their politics;
Frustrate their knavish tricks;
On Thee our hopes we fix:
God save the Queen!

Thy choicest gifts in store
On her be pleased to pour,
Long may she reign!
May she defend our laws,
And ever give us cause
To sing with heart and voice,
God save the Queen!

B

RULE BRITANNIA.

JAMES THOMSON.]

[Music by Dr. ARNE,

When Britain, first, at Heaven's command,
Arose from out the azure main,

This was the charter of the land,

And guardian angels sang this strain:

Rule Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves!
Britons never shall be slaves.

The nations not so blest as thee
Must, in their turn, to tyrants fall;
While thou shalt flourish great and free,
The dread and envy of them all.
Rule Britannia, &c.

Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
More dreadful from each foreign stroke;
As the loud blast that tears the skies
Serves but to root thy native oak.
Rule Britannia, &c.

Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame;
All their attempts to pull thee down
Will but arouse thy gen'rous flame,
But work their woe and thy renown.
Rule Britannia, &c.

To thee belongs the rural reign;

Thy cities shall with commerce shine:
All thine shall be the subject main,
And ev'ry shore it circles thine.
Rule Britannia, &c.

The Muses, still with freedom found,
Shall to thy happy coasts repair,
Blest isle, with matchless beauty crown'd,
And manly hearts to guard the fair.
Rule Britannia, &c.

SEE THE CONQUERING HERO COMES !

(From the Oratorio of "Judas Maccabæus.")
Music by HANDEL.

See the conquering hero comes,
Sound the trumpet, beat the drums;
Sports prepare, the laurel bring,
Songs of triumph to him sing.

See the godlike youth advance,
Breathe the flutes and lead the dance
Myrtle wreaths and roses twine,
To deck the hero's brow divine.

THE HAPPY VALLEY.

THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY.]

Oh, after roving many years,
How sweet it is to come

[Music by A. LEE.

To the dwelling place of early youth,
Our first, our dearest home.

To turn away our weary eyes

From proud ambition's towers,
And wander in the summer field
Among the trees and flowers.

But I am changed since last I gazed
On yonder tranquil scene;
And sat beneath the old witch elm
That shades the village green;
And watch'd my boat upon the brook,
As 'twere a royal galley,
And sigh'd not for a joy on earth
Beyond the happy valley.

I wish I could recall again

That bright and blameless joy;
And summon to my weary heart
The feelings of a boy.

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