The Austrian

How shall I help thee, Mother, in thy need?
I cried, and lookt my life out thro' mine eyes,

Across the smoke of thy great Sacrifice.
Give me some perilous post, or daring deed.

O might I breathe in Song heroic breath,
And strike my harp, as Lightning smites his wires,

To bear God's message with celestial fires!
Sing how the Glory of our land hath risen;

Siog midnight paeans by the Martyrs' graves.
Walk War's red highways, voyage grim wide waves:

Or in an English cheer go down to death,
Where the soul bursts in wings on Battle's wind!

"No! England waves her Minstrels forth to find
Our Lion Heart again in Austria's prison.