IT is not to be thought of that the flood   Of British freedom, which, to the open sea   Of the world's praise, from dark antiquity Hath flow'd, 'with pomp of waters, unwithstood,' Roused though it be full often to a mood   Which spurns the check of salutary bands,—   That this most famous stream in bogs and sands Should perish; and to evil and to good Be lost for ever. In our halls is hung   Armoury of the invincible Knights of old: We must be free or die, who speak the tongue   That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold Which Milton held.—In everything we are sprung   Of Earth's first blood, have titles manifold.