Cavalier Tunes - I. - Marching Along.

I.
Kentish Sir Byng stood for his King,
Bidding the crop-headed Parliament swing:
And, pressing a troop unable to stoop
And see the rogues flourish and honest folk droop,
Marched them along, fifty score strong,
Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song.

II.
God for King Charles! Pym and such carles
To the Devil that prompts em their treasonous parles!
Cavaliers, up! Lips from the cup,
Hands from the pasty, nor bite take nor sup
Till youre (Chorus) Marching along, fifty-score strong,
Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song.

III.
Hampden to hell, and his obsequies knell.
Serve Hazelrig, Fiennes, and young Harry as well!
England, good cheer! Rupert is near!
Kentish and loyalists, keep we not here

(Chorus) Marching along, fifty-score strong,
Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song?

IV.
Then, God for King Charles! Pym and his snarls
To the Devil that pricks on such pestilent carles!
Hold by the right, you double your might;
So, onward to Nottingham, fresh for the fight,

(Chorus) March we along, fifty-score strong,
Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song!

Robert Browning

Robert Browning was an English poet and playwright whose mastery of dramatic verse, especially dramatic monologues, made him one of the foremost Victorian poets. His work was initially harshly criticized, but he gained recognition later in life. He is best known for works such as "The Ring and the Book" and "Men and Women" which exhibit his deep understanding of human character and psychological insight.

Robert Browning

Appearances

Robert Browning, Simple Poetry

Memorabilia

Robert Browning, Simple Poetry

Waring

Robert Browning, Simple Poetry

Life In A Love

Robert Browning, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Cavalier Tunes - II - Give A Rouse

I.
King Charles, and wholl do him right now?
King Charles, and whos ripe for fight now?
Give a rouse: heres, in hells despite now,
King Charles!

II.
Who gave me the goods that went since?
Who raised me the house that sank once?
Who helped me to gold I spent since?
Who found me in wine you drank once?

(Chorus.) King Charles, and wholl do him right now?
King Charles, and whos ripe for fight now?
Give a rouse: heres, in hells despite now,
King Charles!

III.
To whom used my boy George quaff else,
By the old fools side that begot him?
For whom did he cheer and laugh else,
While Nolls damned troopers shot him?

(Chorus.) King Charles, and wholl do him right now?
King Charles, and whos ripe for fight now?
Gi...

Robert Browning

Cavalier Tunes - III - Boot And Saddle

I.
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
Rescue my castle before the hot day
Brightens to blue from its silvery grey,

(Chorus). Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!

II.
Ride past the suburbs, asleep as youd say;
Manys the friend there, will listen and pray
Gods luck to gallants that strike up the lay,

(Chorus). Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!

III.
Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay,
Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads array:
Who laughs, Good fellows ere this, by my fay,

(Chorus). Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!

IV.
Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and gay,
Laughs when you talk of surrendering, Nay!
Ive better counsellors; what counsel they?

(Chorus). Boot, saddle, to horse, and away...

Robert Browning

A Royal Welcome.

By England's side we stand,
We grasp her royal hand,
And pay her rightful homage through her Son;
Thank God for England's care!
Thank God for Britain's heir!
Our hearts go forth to meet him - we are one.

A loyal Province pours
Her thousands to her shores,
From iron-girt Superior to the sea;
We feel our youthful blood
Surge through us like a flood,
There's not a slave amongst us - we are free.

For none but Freemen know
The truly loyal throe
That gives heroic impulse to the Man -
The passion and the fire,
The chivalrous desire:
Our Fathers all were heroes - in the van.

And we, their ardent sons,
Through whom, triumphant, runs
The old intrepid attribute serene,
Would leave our chosen land,
Our homes, our forests gra...

Charles Sangster

The Dumfries Volunteers.

Tune - "Push about the jorum."


I.

    Does haughty Gaul invasion threat,
        Then let the loons beware, Sir,
    There's wooden walls upon our seas,
        And volunteers on shore, Sir.
    The Nith shall run to Corsincon,
        And Criffel sink in Solway,
    Ere we permit a foreign foe
        On British ground to rally!

II.

    O let us not, like snarling tykes,
        In wrangling be divided;
    Till slap come in an unco loon
        And wi' a rung decide it.
    Be Britain still to Britain true,
        Amang oursels united;
    For never but by British hands
        Maun British wrangs be righted!

III.

    The kettle o' the kirk and state,
        Perhaps a clout may fail ...

Robert Burns

Song Of The Battle Of Hastings.

The Norman armament beneath thy rocks, St Valerie,
Is moored; and, streaming to the morn, three hundred banners fly,
Of crimson silk; with golden cross, effulgent o'er the rest,
That banner, proudest in the fleet, streams, which the Lord had blessed.
The gale is fair, the sails are set, cheerily the south wind blows,
And Norman archers, all in steel, have grasped their good yew-bows;
Aloud the harpers strike their harps, whilst morning light is flung
Upon the cross-bows and the shields, that round the masts are hung.
Speed on, ye brave! 'tis William leads; bold barons, at his word,
Lo! sixty thousand men of might for William draw the sword.

So, bound to England's southern shore, we rolled upon the seas,
And gallantly the white sails set were, and swelling to the breeze.
On,...

William Lisle Bowles

The Palace.

They come, they come, with fife and drum,
And gleaming pikes and glancing banners:
Though the eyes flash, the lips are dumb;
To talk in rank would not be manners.
Onward they stride, as Britons can;
The ladies following in the Van.

Who, who be these that tramp in threes
Through sumptuous Piccadilly, through
The roaring Strand, and stand at ease
At last 'neath shadowy Waterloo?
Some gallant Guild, I ween, are they;
Taking their annual holiday.

To catch the destin'd train - to pay
Their willing fares, and plunge within it -
Is, as in old Romaunt they say,
With them the work of half-a-minute.
Then off they're whirl'd, with songs and shouting,
To cedared Sydenham for their outing.

I mark'd them light, with faces bright
As pansies o...

Charles Stuart Calverley