 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
THE MAN AND THE HOUR. (FEB., 1885.)
Lo, the hour has struck for action,
That requires a broader plan,
With an end to strife of faction,
And a hero of a man.
Yes, a man and not a mumbler
Of old sentences and saws—
Like a tempest in a tumbler,
Or a baby pulling straws.
He must truthful be, and tender
As a woman in her love,
And his brows must wear the splendour
Of anointing from above.
He must grandly serve the nation,
Though his person be the price;
His must be the consecration
Of the living sacrifice.
Was there not a man, the warden
Of our honour unto doom?
Ah, remember England's Gordon,
And the hero of Khartoum.
That requires a broader plan,
With an end to strife of faction,
And a hero of a man.
Yes, a man and not a mumbler
Of old sentences and saws—
Like a tempest in a tumbler,
Or a baby pulling straws.
He must truthful be, and tender
As a woman in her love,
And his brows must wear the splendour
Of anointing from above.
He must grandly serve the nation,
Though his person be the price;
His must be the consecration
Of the living sacrifice.
Was there not a man, the warden
Of our honour unto doom?
Ah, remember England's Gordon,
And the hero of Khartoum.
Lo, the time is for decision,
To remove the withering ban,
That has cursed us with division,
And the man that is no man.
Who has ruled and fooled the nation,
Till it half forgets its name,
And has cast it from its station,
To the shadow deep of shame.
Now we want a faithful leader,
Who despises place and pelf,
Not a petty special pleader,
One who cannot rule himself,
We must have a statesman hearty,
Who can cope with any fate;
Who will not be for a party,
But who will be for the State.
Was there not a man, the warden
Of our honour unto doom?
Ah, remember England's Gordon,
And the Hero of Khartoum.
To remove the withering ban,
That has cursed us with division,
And the man that is no man.
Who has ruled and fooled the nation,
Till it half forgets its name,
And has cast it from its station,
To the shadow deep of shame.
Now we want a faithful leader,
Who despises place and pelf,
Not a petty special pleader,
One who cannot rule himself,
524
Who can cope with any fate;
Who will not be for a party,
But who will be for the State.
Was there not a man, the warden
Of our honour unto doom?
Ah, remember England's Gordon,
And the Hero of Khartoum.
Lo, events are sternly moving,
While our ministers stand still;
They have failed to bear their proving,
To obey the people's will.
Our repute was high and royal,
They have brought our glory down,
Who have ever been disloyal
To the country and the Crown.
They have dragged our stainless banner,
Through the gutter and the mire;
They have lost the stately manner,
And the spirit as of fire.
We must have a sturdy statesman,
Who will paths of duty walk;
Not a mouther and debates man,
Who can only talk and talk.
Was there not a man, the warden
Of our honour unto doom?
Ah, remember England's Gordon,
And the hero of Khartoum.
While our ministers stand still;
They have failed to bear their proving,
To obey the people's will.
Our repute was high and royal,
They have brought our glory down,
Who have ever been disloyal
To the country and the Crown.
They have dragged our stainless banner,
Through the gutter and the mire;
They have lost the stately manner,
And the spirit as of fire.
We must have a sturdy statesman,
Who will paths of duty walk;
Not a mouther and debates man,
Who can only talk and talk.
Was there not a man, the warden
Of our honour unto doom?
Ah, remember England's Gordon,
And the hero of Khartoum.
Lo, the spell at last is broken,
And the steed is on the strain;
While it listens for the token,
Of the guiding voice and rein.
For we only wait the mounting,
And we only want the man;
Who will dally not in counting
Just his pennies, not a plan.
He must be like our fifth Harry,
With a heart for every ill,
And an iron will to carry
Unto victory his will.
He will speak till nations hearken,
He will strike till nations fear;
Though the whole horizon darken,
And a thousand foes draw near.
Was there not a man, the warden
Of our honour unto doom?
Ah, remember England's Gordon,
And the Hero of Khartoum.
And the steed is on the strain;
While it listens for the token,
Of the guiding voice and rein.
For we only wait the mounting,
And we only want the man;
Who will dally not in counting
Just his pennies, not a plan.
He must be like our fifth Harry,
With a heart for every ill,
And an iron will to carry
Unto victory his will.
He will speak till nations hearken,
He will strike till nations fear;
Though the whole horizon darken,
And a thousand foes draw near.
Was there not a man, the warden
Of our honour unto doom?
Ah, remember England's Gordon,
And the Hero of Khartoum.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |