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 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
44
SI VIS PACEM PARA BELLUM.
O my country, O my dearest,
Whom a child I learnt to love,
Throned among the nations, nearest
To the throne of God above;
Spreading freedom, as a river
Rolls the blessings of its wave,
Ever foremost to deliver
Heathen soul or fettered slave;
Home of right and truth, the charter
Royal which no king can give,
Bought with price of many a martyr
Dying that a land might live;
Meting mercy from its fountains,
Laws that equal compass keep—
Righteousness like lofty mountains,
Judgments like the mighty deep;
Girt with fear of God, as ocean
Bound, on which sun never sets,
Propt by people's firm devotion,
Not by bloody bayonets;
England, if thou wouldst be steady,
When the storms of battle break,
O betimes be armed and ready,
From thy fatal sleep awake!
Whom a child I learnt to love,
Throned among the nations, nearest
To the throne of God above;
Spreading freedom, as a river
Rolls the blessings of its wave,
Ever foremost to deliver
Heathen soul or fettered slave;
Home of right and truth, the charter
Royal which no king can give,
Bought with price of many a martyr
Dying that a land might live;
Meting mercy from its fountains,
Laws that equal compass keep—
Righteousness like lofty mountains,
Judgments like the mighty deep;
Girt with fear of God, as ocean
Bound, on which sun never sets,
Propt by people's firm devotion,
Not by bloody bayonets;
England, if thou wouldst be steady,
When the storms of battle break,
O betimes be armed and ready,
From thy fatal sleep awake!
Where the prudence, now, that gathers
Weapons good in wealthy stores?
Where the bulwarks of our fathers,
Gallant ships and fencèd shores?
Where the wooden wall, salvation
Proved, to guard the golden Shop?
Shall we stem war's inundation,
With a maxim or a mop?
Fools, to sit at ease and wrangle,
Splitting hairs and tying tape,
Drifting on the rocks that mangle
Keel and crew, with no escape!
Fools to let an empire's peril,
Closer yet, and closer stalk—
Toy with straw and motion sterile,
Still in aimless endless talk!
Fools, to leave defenceless treasures,
Arsenal and teeming town,
Continent and isle, for measures
Useless when the night comes down!
Will ye now not not see the beauty
Born of action, till too late?
But begin to think of duty,
With the foeman at the gate?
Weapons good in wealthy stores?
Where the bulwarks of our fathers,
Gallant ships and fencèd shores?
Where the wooden wall, salvation
Proved, to guard the golden Shop?
Shall we stem war's inundation,
With a maxim or a mop?
Fools, to sit at ease and wrangle,
Splitting hairs and tying tape,
Drifting on the rocks that mangle
Keel and crew, with no escape!
Fools to let an empire's peril,
Closer yet, and closer stalk—
Toy with straw and motion sterile,
Still in aimless endless talk!
Fools, to leave defenceless treasures,
Arsenal and teeming town,
Continent and isle, for measures
Useless when the night comes down!
Will ye now not not see the beauty
Born of action, till too late?
But begin to think of duty,
With the foeman at the gate?
45
O my England, O the glory
Won for thee in larger days—
Won by men whose life was story,
Stept in the heroic ways;
Wake, arise, be up and doing
Deeds more worthy of thy name,
Leave the helpless dreamers wooing
Shadows, that will burst in shame;
Forth let din of dockyard labour
Echo, to the farthest Crown,
Where the rifle and the sabre
Beat the fretting masses down;
Heave the hammer, grind the axes,
Ring the chimes on every tool
Better pay the dearest taxes
Twice, than be a tyrant's fool;
Politicians wise may prattle
Big of splendours dead and gone,
Trusting in the God of battle
Stay no longer, up and on;
Build the fleet, the men are standing
Idle, who for modest fees
Would make cruisers world-commanding—
If ye build upon your knees.
Won for thee in larger days—
Won by men whose life was story,
Stept in the heroic ways;
Wake, arise, be up and doing
Deeds more worthy of thy name,
Leave the helpless dreamers wooing
Shadows, that will burst in shame;
Forth let din of dockyard labour
Echo, to the farthest Crown,
Where the rifle and the sabre
Beat the fretting masses down;
Heave the hammer, grind the axes,
Ring the chimes on every tool
Better pay the dearest taxes
Twice, than be a tyrant's fool;
Politicians wise may prattle
Big of splendours dead and gone,
Trusting in the God of battle
Stay no longer, up and on;
Build the fleet, the men are standing
Idle, who for modest fees
Would make cruisers world-commanding—
If ye build upon your knees.
Out upon the coward faction,
Poisonous bane of party feud,
Selfish aim, and separate action
Ended but to be renewed!
Must we still stoop low, and stumble
Tamely, where our fathers trod
Never, and give cringing humble,
At a foreign master's nod?
Up, and off with meddling stranger!
Up, away with petty strife!
Up, and let a common danger
Rouse us o a common life!
Every step be one and steady,
Every creek an armed port,
Every man a soldier ready,
Every ship a floating fort;
Girdle with a wall of iron
England's honour far from ill,
While our prayers to Heaven environ,
As of old, these homesteads still;
Each a patriot in his station,
Staunch with freedom that is might,
Stand, as if on him the nation
Leant, and God defend the right.
Poisonous bane of party feud,
Selfish aim, and separate action
Ended but to be renewed!
Must we still stoop low, and stumble
Tamely, where our fathers trod
Never, and give cringing humble,
At a foreign master's nod?
Up, and off with meddling stranger!
Up, away with petty strife!
Up, and let a common danger
Rouse us o a common life!
Every step be one and steady,
Every creek an armed port,
Every man a soldier ready,
Every ship a floating fort;
Girdle with a wall of iron
England's honour far from ill,
While our prayers to Heaven environ,
As of old, these homesteads still;
Each a patriot in his station,
Staunch with freedom that is might,
Stand, as if on him the nation
Leant, and God defend the right.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |