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138
Dover Pageant
Henry VIII. Episode
ChoragusLet us be glad for the splendour and strength of Kings,
The lords of armies, the doers of doughty things!
Chorus
Apparelled in praise and mailed in might they ride,
And the time seems long till their lust be satisfied.
Their laughter is as the sea's, their wrath like fire,
And who shall hinder them of their heart's desire?
They daunt the main, they measure the earth with a rod,
They carry the scales of Doom and the sword of God;
The lives of a thousand men are a little thing,
So they be sped of their mind's imagining;
They covet and have, they ask and take no nay,
For the word in their mouth is mighty, to save or slay.
Choragus
Let us be glad for the labours of lowly men,
The tillers of earth, the tamers of field and fen,
The wielders of hod and hammer, of axe or wedge,
The harbour-builders, the hands that delve or dredge!
Chorus
They deepen the dyke and bridle the swelling brine,
They set the beacon-tower on the hill to shine;
They fashion the limber oar, and shape the sail,
They curve their keels to weather the roaring gale,
They weather the roaring gale and know no fear,
For little in life have they, to deem it dear;
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They wrestle and swink and starve, and ask not why,
And the days seem weary-long till they come to die.
Chorus
Let us now look, and ponder upon these things,
The travail of lowly men, and the pomp of Kings!
Chorus
Before the Final Tableau
Britons and French, with hearts and hands
Knit ye the league of the neighbour lands!
Doubts and fears to the deep be hurled!
Freedom and friendship win the world!
We have conquered each other enough to prove
That that which must conquer at last is love:
For a loveless man is a lifeless clod,
And the spirit of love is a spark from God:
O Love-star, rise on the night, we pray,
And lead, lead on the diviner day!
Knit ye the league of the neighbour lands!
Doubts and fears to the deep be hurled!
Freedom and friendship win the world!
We have conquered each other enough to prove
That that which must conquer at last is love:
For a loveless man is a lifeless clod,
And the spirit of love is a spark from God:
O Love-star, rise on the night, we pray,
And lead, lead on the diviner day!
The nations have heard, they have heard a call,
The voice was the voice of the Lord of all:
His mould is ready, His furnace hot,
He hath men's hearts in the smelting-pot:
For a time is coming—ah! let it come!—
When the tiger in man shall be quelled and dumb,
When the shuttle of death shall ply no more
‘Twixt the hands of the weaver whose warp is war,
And envy and hate no more have sway,
For the former things shall have passed away.
The voice was the voice of the Lord of all:
His mould is ready, His furnace hot,
He hath men's hearts in the smelting-pot:
For a time is coming—ah! let it come!—
When the tiger in man shall be quelled and dumb,
When the shuttle of death shall ply no more
‘Twixt the hands of the weaver whose warp is war,
And envy and hate no more have sway,
For the former things shall have passed away.
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