Repel the Foe, that, desperate, dares invade The land protected by great Sydney’s shade; And in the cause for which your Hampden bled, Should ev’ry Briton’s blood be freely shed; A cause no less than Liberty and Life, The poor Man’s Home, his Children and his Wife. Britons, strike home! &c. The base Usurper comes--his troops advance, And line, with threat’ning front, the shores of France; Already has the Despot given the word; Already has he drawn his blood stain’d sword; While _Jaffa’s_ plains attest th’ Assassin’s skill, Poison and blood--the dagger and the pill. Britons, strike home! &c. No common war we wage, our _native land_ Is menac’d by a murderous, ruthless band; The Throne and Altar by their Chief o’erturn’d, And at his feet one half the prostrate world! ‘Plunder and Rape and Death’’s the hostile cry, ‘Fire to your towns--to Britons slavery!’ Britons, strike home! &c. Come, Bonaparte, come! we are prepar’d; No British heart a foreign foe e’er fear’d. What! tho’ an abject world in arms should rise, In _England’s_ cause, a Briton death defies; If to herself she prove but firm and true, Gaul, and her frantic Chief, she’ll make to rue. Britons, strike home! &c. Plung’d in the deep, her navy we’ll confound, Or with French blood manure our British ground; Drive backward to the sea the Gallic slaves, And whelm their host, like Pharaoh’s, in the waves; Restore lost Peace and Plenty to our isle, And make the land again with gladness smile. Britons, strike home! &c. There is an amusing picture by West (July 1803) called Amusement after Dinner, or The Corsican Fairy displaying his Prowess.’ George the Third and Queen Charlotte are at dessert, which is, as was their whole _ménage_, frugal, consisting only of a blancmange--the top ornament of which is a fleet of ships, behind which is a pineapple (the _King fruit_, as it was called on its introduction into England), the summit of which bears a crown. The royal pair are highly amused by the antics of the Corsican fairy (Napoleon) who vapours about the table in huge cocked hat and enormous sword. Pointing to the blancmange, he says, ‘If I could but get over this dish of Blanche Mange, I would soon invade the Pine Apple.’ In ‘A Monstrous Stride,’ by I. Cruikshank (July 25, 1803), Bonaparte is represented as flourishing his sword and, having one foot on Turkey and Poland, is attempting to put the other on Great Britain, but steps short, and comes among the fleet guarding the English shores. Underneath the picture is ‘He will put his foot in it.’ There was a somewhat amusing political squib on Napoleon, published some time in July of this year, entitled BONAPARTE’S WILL.