Tomorrow let us do or die!
The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.
Ye are brothers! ye are men! And we conquer but to save.
Better be courted and jilted Than never be courted at all.
O star-eyed Science, hast thou wander'd there, To waft us home the message of despair?
Britannia needs no bulwarks, No towers along the steep; Her march is o'er the mountain waves, Her home is on the deep.