THE APPEAL.
Children of our England! stand
On the shores that girt our land;
The ægis of whose cloud-white rock
Braveth Time's own battle shock.
Look above the wide, wide world;
Where the northern blasts have furl'd
Their numbed wings amid the snows,
Mutt'ring in a forced repose—
Or where the madden'd sun on high
Shakes his torch athwart the sky,
Till within their prison sere,
Chained earthquakes groan for fear!
