No! we want good men, and true men of

spirit,

Bold in the battle, as firm in the faith;

Men who the soul of their fathers inherit,

Yielding their principles but with their breath.

Rome has spoke out at last-take up her

token,

Hurl back her challenge-hurl back to her

teeth:

Tell her, "heart, hand, and blade-all must

be broken,

Ere the sword rest she hath roused from its sheath!"

Bloodless the weapon is-yet it is stronger, Sharper, than Rome ever crimsoned with

gore;

England's old Church, ere the Tyrant shall wrong her,

Will wield it again, as she wielded of yore.

But let her hearts of faith rise to the danger, Time it is now they should draw, and strike

home;

Rome they may vanquish, but never may change her,

On, then, the battle-cry, "No peace with Rome!"

"No peace with Rome!"-Aye, herself hath decreed it:

Spoken at last, and we take up the word; Englishmen !-Protestants!-look at it-read

it,

Give it your vows in the name of the Lord.

A PROTESTANT WELCOME.

WRITTEN FOR THE OCCASION OF THE QUEEN'S VISIT TO LANCASHIRE.

A PROTESTANT welcome

To Albion's Queen,

A hearty good welcome we'll find her;

Nor shall she have found,

If she roam the world round, Warmer hearts than she's leaving behind her.

For we're not of the crew,

Who can shout for their Queen,

When their silence were counted for treason,

But of those who rejoice

With the heart as the voice,

And are ready to furnish a reason.

Yes! we give her our love

For her Protestant truth,

For her staunch, and her noble devotion

To our Protestant cause,

To our rights and our laws,
And her hatred of Popish Promotion.

Hail! Queen of our hearts,

There's a throne for thy name, Wheresoever a bosom is glowing;

'Tis a throne shall remain,

Till it crumble again,

To the dust, whence it rose, and is going.

But longer to last

Shall thy worth be engraved,

On the tablet, that History raises

To the great and the good,

Who have candidate stood

For a nation's perennial praises.

Then welcome our Queen!

Since she merits our love,

With a Protestant spirit we'll show it:
With a shout, and a song,

We'll escort her along,

And the Queen of our bosoms shall know it.

Yes! a Protestant welcome

To Albion's Queen,

With a hearty good spirit we'll find her;

Nor shall she have found,

When she's gone the world round,

Warmer hearts, than she's leaving behind her!