ROMEWARD, HO!

"ROMEWARD, HO!"-Who will go?-
Ye that mean it, let us know :
Are your banners ready wrought?
Then unfold them as ye ought!
Wave them, and give out the call
From our Zion's ancient wall,
"Who is ripe to join the foe-
Romeward, Ho!-Who will go?"

Jesuit fleecers of the flock!
"Twill not be a sudden shock;

Long we've seen you're not at home,
Hankering for the arms of Rome:

Leave us!-Better that the fold
Should be shepherdless, than sold;
Better that the sheep should stray,
Than be led a fatal way.

Romeward, Ho!-Attend the call,
Semi-Papists! one and all;

Time it is we fairly knew

Who are false, and who are true;—
True men-proof to Rome's embrace,
Still retain your honour's place;
False ones-now your colours show,
Romeward, Ho!-Who will go?

If ye find ye're not at home,
In the filthy arms of Rome;
If ye taste her bitter fruit,
If ye mark her cloven foot;

When you see, beyond a doubt,

How

your folly finds you out,

Then confess, 'twas mad to go,

Sound the summons-" HOMEWARD, Ho!"

Homeward, Ho!—and homeward hie,
All who have believed a lie;

Come !—Return!-where Truth displays
Pure Religion's happy ways;

By experience, dearly bought,
Choicest lessons have been taught:
Ye have paid, and found it so—
Homeward, Ho!-Homeward, Ho!

ENGLAND'S VOICE TO ENGLAND'S QUEEN.

WRITTEN PREVIOUS TO THE PASSING OF THE ECCLESIASTICAL TITLES BILL.

MONARCH! hear a people's cry

Listen to a nation's story—

'Tis no infant's lullaby,

But the shout of perill'd glory.

Never let a Despot say,

England's sceptre rules no longer

Shew him, by decisive sway,

Popes are strong, but Queens are stronger.

'Tis a daring, dark offence,

Dastard blow at Britain's honour ;

Insolence of Impotence

Shall the shame remain upon her?

H

Nay-Victoria!-speak the word,

Like a Monarch, be it spoken, Vowing o'er a nation's sword

Both must be, if one be broken.

Tell the vain Usurper so,

Bid him call his minions homeward ; Tell them, Britons bid them "go!"

And if they go not-send them-Romeward.

Oh! by all a nation's hopes,

Monarch! like a monarch shew it

England's throne is not the Pope's,
England's Queen will let him know it.

Rouse thee! like the waves that roll
Round thy glorious Isle of Ocean,
When the winds from either pole

Lash them into angry motion.