GO, glorious Youth, belov'd of Britain, go,
And pour just Vengeance on the trait'rous Foe:
If Millions, lifting Hands and Eyes to Heav'n,
Avail, to Thee will Vict'ry soon be giv'n:
A Nations Pray'rs await Thee to the Field,
That Providence thy precious Life may shield.
Blast, gracious God, th' Assassin's Hell-bred Scheme,
And O! be this Britannia's grateful Theme;
WILLIAM return'd, with Health and Laurels bless'd,
And curst Rebellion totally depress'd;
Crush'd! sunk! confounded! ne'er to rise again!
And let exulting Britons say—Amen!