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17 7 6. TO THE TUNE OF " SMILE BRITANNIA."
Rise, rise, bright genius rise,
Conduct thy sons to war;
Thy spear pois'd to the skies,
Whirl, whirl, thy rapid car; Fire each firm breast with noble zeal, To conquer for the common weal.
For years the iron rod, Has hover'd o'er our heads, Submit to George's nod, Whose power all Europe dreads; The slavish minion trembling cries, But freedom's sons all fears despise.