From The Scots Magazine, Volume 35 June, 1773, page 314:


THE WOODEN WALLS OF OLD ENGLAND.
An ODE.

Written by HENRY GREEN, Purser of his Majesty's ship Ramilies, and presented to his Majesty by the author, at the levee at the Governor's house at Portsmouth, on Tuesday June 22.

When Britain on her sea-girt shore,
Her ancient Druids erst address'd;
What aid (she cry'd) shall I implore,
What best defence, by numbers press'd?
"Tho' hostile nations round thee rise,"
(The mystic oracles reply'd)
"And view thine isle with envious eyes,
Their threats defy, their rage deride,
Nor fear invasion from your adverse Gauls,
Britain's best bulwarks are her Wooden Walls.

Thine oaks descending to the main,
With floating forts shall stem the tides;
Asserting Britain's wat'ry reign
Where-e'er her thundering navy rides:
Nor less to peaceful arts inclin'd,
Where Commerce opens all her stores,
In social bands shall league mankind,
And join the sea-divided shores:
Spread then thy sails where naval glory calls:
Britain's best bulwarks are her Wooden Walls.

Hail, happy isle! what tho' thy vales,
No vine-impurpled tribute yield,
Nor fann'd with odour-breathing gales,
Nor crops spontaneous glad the field:
Yet Liberty rewards the toil
Of Industry, to labour prone,
Who jocund ploughs the grateful soil,
And reaps the harvest she has sown:
While other realms tyrannic sway inthralls,
Britain's best bulwarks are her Wooden Walls."

Thus spake the bearded seers of yore,
In visions wrapt of Britain's fame,
Ere yet Iberia felt her pow'r,
Or Gallia trembled at her name.
O! that my Muse inspir'd could sing,
The praises to her heroes due,
Wou'd heav'n-born genius imp her wing,
Pleas'd she'd the glorious theme pursue!
Then should my verse record Great GEORGE'S reign,
Who stretch'd from pole to pole his wide domain.