t beats with burning glow,
The wrong'd and the weak to defend;
And strikes as soon for a trampled foe
As it does for a soul-bound friend.
It nurtures a deep and honest love,
The passions of faith and pride,
And yearns with the fondness of a dove,
To the light of its own fireside,
'Tis a rich rough gem--deny it who can--
And this is the heart of an Englishman.

The Briton may traverse the pole or the zone
And boldly claim his right,
For he calls such a vast domain his own
That the sun never sets on his might.
Let the haughty stranger seek to know
The place of his home and birth;
And a flush will pour from cheek to brow
While he tells of his native earth;
For a glorious charter--deny it who can--
Is breathed in the words, "I'm an Englishman."

ENGLAND GOES TO BATTLE.

BY GERALD MASSEY.

Now, glory to our England,
She arises, calm and grand,
The ancient spirit in her eyes,--
The good sword in her hand!
Our royal right on battle-ground
Was aye to bear the brunt:
Ho! brave heart, with one passionate bound,
Take the old place in front!
Now glory to our England,
As she rises, calm and grand,
The ancient spirit in her eyes,--
The good sword in her hand!

Who would not fight for England?
Who would not fling a life
I' the ring, to meet a Tyrant's gage,
And glory in the strife?
Her stem is thorny, but doth burst
A glorious Rose a-top!
And shall our proud Rose wither? First
We'll drain life's dearest drop!
Who would not fight for England?
Who would not fling a life
I' the ring, to meet a tyrant's gage,
And glory in the strife?

To battle goes our England,
As gallant and as gay
As lover to the altar, on
A merry marriage-day.
A weary night she stood to watch
The clouds of dawn up-rolled;
And her young heroes strain to match
The valour of the old.
To battle goes our England,
As gallant and as gay
As lover to the altar, on
A merry marriage-day.

Now, fair befall our England,
On her proud and perilous road:
And woe and wail to those who make
Her footprints wet with blood.
Up with our