anticipation, october 1803 by william wordsworth - richard mitchley lyrics
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shout, for a mighty victory is won!
on british ground the invaders are laid low;
the breath of heaven has drifted them like snow
and left them lying in the silent sun
never to rise again!—the work is done
come forth, ye old men, now in peaceful show
and greet your sons! drums beat and trumpets blow!
make merry, wives! ye little children, stun
your grandame’s ears with pleasure of your noise!
clap, infants, clap your hands! divine must be
that triumph, when the very worst, thе pain
and even the prospеct of our brethren slain
hath something in it which the heart enjoys:—
in glory will they sleep and endless sanctity
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