So with Tennyson’s “War Songs” and “National Songs,” published in the edition of 1830 and wisely omitted in later editions. They are not much above the level of many fledglings’ performances in a like strain. They fall dull on the heart: “There standeth our ancient enemy, Hark! he shouteth—the ancient enemy! On the ridge of the hill his banners rise; They stream like fire in the skies; Hold up the Lion of England on high Till it dazzle and blind his eyes. _Chorus_: Shout for England! Ho! for England! George for England! Merry England! England for aye!” Here are the chorus and full chorus of his “National Song”: “For the French, the Pope may shrive ’em. For the devil a whit we heed ’em: As for the French, God speed ’em Unto their heart’s desire, And the merry devil drive ’em Through the water and fire. Our glory is our freedom, We lord it o’er the sea; We are the sons of freedom. We are free.” As Mr. Tennyson has been wise enough—for shame’s sake, presumably—to omit these and similar sorry pieces from his later editions, it may seem unfair to quote them against him now. We quote them, however, intentionally, to show that there is a strong streak of English narrowness and Protestant bigotry in his nature which we were happy to think dead, until within the last few years it has cropped out again. In 1852 there were probabilities of war between England and France, then under Louis Napoleon. Tennyson thought to rouse his countrymen, and the strongest appeal he can make is to religious bigotry: “Rise, Britons, rise, if manhood be not dead; The world’s last tempest darkens overhead; The Pope has bless’d him; The Church caress’d him; He triumphs; may be we shall stand alone. Britons, guard your own. “His ruthless host is bought with plunder’d gold, By lying priests the peasants’ votes controll’d. All freedom vanish’d, The true men banish’d, etc. “Rome’s dearest daughter now is captive France, The Jesuit laughs, and reckoning on his chance, _Would unrelenting, Kill all dissenting_, Till we were left to fight for truth alone. Britons, guard your own.” And this is the gentle Tennyson! But we forbear from comment other than the verses themselves suggest, and turn at last to our more immediate object.