  Tune—Anacreon in Heaven. When Britannia her sons calls to aid her in arms, And fell war, with its horrors, our island does threat, The true British feeling each bosom that warms, Prompts away to the beach, the invader to meet. And along with the brave, Who their country will save, And whose only retreat is a glorious grave. See each son of Dunelm, and the old winding Wear, The patriot, the loyal, the brave Volunteer. Let the foes of old England unite to enslave Her free bands, from whose fury so oft they have fled; We’ll prove, by their ruin who escape the wild wave, We can fight like our sires, who at Agincourt bled; Their great deeds we’ll review, And example pursue, And prove we’ve the blood of the same race so true. Determined to save what than life is more dear, Our country, our laws, march each brave Volunteer. Vain boasting Monsieur always lower’d his proud flag, Whenever he met our bold tars on the sea; And of conquest on shore let the Corsican brag; Here the length of their graves their sole conquest shall be! Let them vapour and threat, Boast their armies so great, Old England united can never be beat: This often prov’d fact each loyal heart cheers, Of their country’s best guardians, her brave Volunteers. The proud Don, through all time, shall his madness deplore, When his Wealth and his Indies are conquer’d by thee; And treach’rous Mynheer mourn, a vassal, once more, From the shackles of which, our brave sires made him free. Then Mynheer, Don, and Gaul, We here challenge you all, And believe British bayonets will your spirits appal; For your pride to chastise, see a nation appears; In the van march her loyal, her brave Volunteers! Come the day when the foe on our shore dare descend, Like the lion defending his den, each will feel; For the world ’gainst our safety in vain will contend, While fair freedom and courage support their lov’d weal: And along with the brave, Who their country will save, And whose only retreat is a glorious grave, With the first in the field, ’gainst each foe will appear, The loyal and patriot sons of the Wear. February, 1805. King James I. in the 15th year of his Reign, came to Durham on Good Friday, April, 1617, where he was kindly received by the Mayor and Corporation of that loyal City, and, on his Entrance, the Body Corporate addressed him as follows:— Durham’s old city thus salutes her king, With entertainments such as she can bring; And cannot wait upon his majesty, With shew of greatness, but humility, Makes her express herself in moderate guise: In this deserted north, far from your eyes; For your great prelate (James) of late adored, Her dignities, for which we oft implored Your highest aid, to give continuance; And so confirmed by your dread sovereignce: But what our royal James did grant herein, Our bishop James hath much oppugnant been. Small force bears down small power, where force and might Hath greater strength than equity and right. The last are only in your breast included: Subjects’ griefs known, are ne’er from you secluded; From your most gracious grant we therefore pray, That the fair sunshine of your brightest day, Would smile upon your city, whose clear beams Exhale the troubles of our former streams; Let not, O Powerful Prince, our ancient state, For one man’s will, to be depopulate! Tho’ one seeks our undoing, yet to you, All our hearts pray, and all our knees shall bow; And this dull cell of earth, in which we live, Unto your name its latest praise shall give; Confirm our grant, good king! Durham’s old city Will powerful be, if bless’d with James’s pity. The verses being ended, the mayor was placed in rank next before the sword borne before the king, and bearing the mace of the city all the way to the Cathedral Church. |
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