Arise, arise, great dead, for arms renown'd

Arise, arise, great dead, for arms renown'd, Rise from your urns, and save your dying story; Your deeds will be in dark oblivian drown'd, For mighty William seizes all your glory.

Again the British trumpet sounds, Again Britannia bleeds; To glorious death, or comely wounds, Her godlike Monarch leads.

Pay us, kind Fate, the debt you owe, Celestial minds from clay unite; Let coward spirits dwell below, And only give the brave to die.