Thomas Babbington Macaulay War Poems

• 1. A Radical War Song
  Awake, arise, the hour is come,
  For rows and revolutions;
  There's no receipt like pike and drum
  For crazy constitutions.
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• 2. Pompeii
  A Poem Which Obtained the Chancellor's Medal at the Cambridge Commencement, July 1819.
  
  
  Oh! land to Memory and to Freedom dear,
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• 3. Lines To The Memory Of Pitt
  Oh Britain! dear Isle, when the annals of story
  Shall tell of the deeds that thy children have done,
  When the strains of each poet shall sing of their glory,
  And the triumphs their skill and their valour have won.
  ...
• 4. The Battle Of Ivry
  Now glory to the Lord of hosts, from whom all glories are!
  And glory to our sovereign liege, King Henry of Navarre!
  Now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance,
  Through thy corn-fields green, and sunny vines, O pleasant land of France!
  ...
• 5. The Armada
  Attend, all ye who list to hear our noble England's praise;
  I tell of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in ancient days,
  When that great fleet invincible against her bore in vain
  The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts of Spain.
  ...
• 6. The Marriage Of Tirzah And Ahirad
  IT is the dead of night:
  Yet more than noonday light
  Beams far and wide from many a gorgeous hall.
  Unnumbered harps are tinkling,
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• 7. The Battle Of Naseby
  Oh! wherefore come ye forth, in triumph from the North,
  With your hands, and your feet, and your raiment all red?
  And wherefore doth your rout send forth a joyous shout?
  And whence be the grapes of the wine-press which ye tread?
  ...
• 8. The Prophecy Of Capys
  A Lay Sung at the Banquet in the Capitol, on the Day Whereon Manius Curius Dentatus, a Second Time Consul, Triumphed Over King Pyrrhus and the Tarentines, in the Year of the City CCCCLXXIX.
  
  
  I.
  ...
• 9. Ivry
  NOW glory to the Lord of hosts, from whom all glories are!
  And glory to our sovereign liege, King Henry of Navarre!
  Now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance,
  Through thy corn-fields green, and sunny vines, O pleasant land of France!
  ...

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