My Lyrical Life Poems Old and New. By Gerald Massey |
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PRIDEAUX AT MAGDALA. |
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 | My Lyrical Life |  |
100
PRIDEAUX AT MAGDALA.
No Cross of Valour hath the Muse to give
His faithful breast, but she may bid him live
In hearts of grateful glow,
Who went to bear his Message with last breath,
Nor changèd countenance at sight of Death,
When Napier bade him go.
His faithful breast, but she may bid him live
In hearts of grateful glow,
Who went to bear his Message with last breath,
Nor changèd countenance at sight of Death,
When Napier bade him go.
England, our Helen, watching from the wall
To cheer us fighting, mourn us if we fall,
O'erlooks her gallant Son!
She hath so many lofty memories
To keep her lifted gaze; a deed like this
So many would do—have done:
To cheer us fighting, mourn us if we fall,
O'erlooks her gallant Son!
She hath so many lofty memories
To keep her lifted gaze; a deed like this
So many would do—have done:
He did it! Moyse, a Private in the “Buffs!”
Though only one of our neglected “roughs,”—
All English, life and limb:
He would not bow his head except to die;
He could not let our England's likeness lie
Dishonoured, shamed in him!
Though only one of our neglected “roughs,”—
All English, life and limb:
He would not bow his head except to die;
He could not let our England's likeness lie
Dishonoured, shamed in him!
Duty, not Glory, is our proud Pass-word,
Who ask that we may prove for England's sword
True steel at need—no more.
Yet worthy of his guerdon is Prideaux,
As if on board they had borne him, lying low
For us who were safe on shore.
Who ask that we may prove for England's sword
True steel at need—no more.
Yet worthy of his guerdon is Prideaux,
As if on board they had borne him, lying low
For us who were safe on shore.
That large content with death for England's sake
In narrower hearts a nobler life shall wake,
To breathe with ampler breath,
And some poor soul, caught in as bitter strait,
Shall think of him, and sternly face its fate—
Go on, and out-face Death!
In narrower hearts a nobler life shall wake,
To breathe with ampler breath,
101
Shall think of him, and sternly face its fate—
Go on, and out-face Death!
Blow, winds of God! and stir us to the root,
Shake down all wormy and unworthy fruit,
There's new life in your breeze!
Traitors may talk of England going down
(In quicksands they, their coward selves, have sown)—
She swims in hearts like these!
Shake down all wormy and unworthy fruit,
There's new life in your breeze!
Traitors may talk of England going down
(In quicksands they, their coward selves, have sown)—
She swims in hearts like these!
| My Lyrical Life | |