The Anniversaries Poems in Commemoration of Great Men and Great Events. By Thomas H. Gill |
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December 7.
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December 7.
THE GOOD OLD CAUSE.
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On this day, 1683, Algernon Sidney, ere he laid his head upon the block, gave the sheriff a paper ending with a prayer, whereof these are the last words:
“Bless thy people and save them. Defend Thine own cause and defend those that defend it. Stir up such as are faint; direct those that are willing; confirm those that waver; give wisdom and integrity to all. Order all things so as may most redound to Thine own glory. Grant that I may die glorifying Thee for all Thy mercies; and that at the last Thou hast permitted me to be singled out as a witness of Thy truth, and even by the confession of my opposers, for that Old Cause in which I was from my youth engaged, and for which Thou hast often and wonderfully declared Thyself.”
O! ne'er on waiting souls hath ceased the Fire Divine to drop;
Still, still have mighty men stepped forth to take Heaven's burden up.
The Lord hath willed His work below should linger not nor pause:
O! faithful hearts, O! valiant hands ne'er failed the Good Old Cause.
Still, still have mighty men stepped forth to take Heaven's burden up.
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O! faithful hearts, O! valiant hands ne'er failed the Good Old Cause.
O! England, sing thy glorious song! with solemn joy rejoice!
Of English hearts, of English hands, the Lord made chiefest choice:
He armed it with thy liberty, He fenced it with thy laws,
He took thee for its sword and shield, that glorious Good Old Cause.
Of English hearts, of English hands, the Lord made chiefest choice:
He armed it with thy liberty, He fenced it with thy laws,
He took thee for its sword and shield, that glorious Good Old Cause.
The Good Old Cause! in English souls the thought sublime first woke;
The Good Old Cause! from English lips the glorious sound first broke:
To spend on it their valiancy upsprang thy men of might;
To lay their lustre at its feet beamed forth thy sons of light.
The Good Old Cause! from English lips the glorious sound first broke:
To spend on it their valiancy upsprang thy men of might;
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It gathered strength as fell the stroke that rent the Papal chain,
Its helpers true those wrathful blasts that smote the ships of Spain:
In vain abroad would foeman strike, at home would traitor sting;
It marched sublime o'er vanquished priest, o'er shamëd, smitten king.
Its helpers true those wrathful blasts that smote the ships of Spain:
In vain abroad would foeman strike, at home would traitor sting;
It marched sublime o'er vanquished priest, o'er shamëd, smitten king.
It blazed in Milton's burning page, from Oliver's bright sword,
It armed those righters of the realm, those Seekers of the Lord:
God and the Cause! on Marston Moor uprose the conquering cry;
God and the Cause! o'er Naseby field it rang victoriously.
It armed those righters of the realm, those Seekers of the Lord:
God and the Cause! on Marston Moor uprose the conquering cry;
God and the Cause! o'er Naseby field it rang victoriously.
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Full well they prayed, full well they fought, those warrior saints sublime,
And looked exulting for their Lord through the strange, awful time.
His cause was won! His work was done! come was His glorious day!
His Englishmen should greet Him first! His saints should bear the sway!
And looked exulting for their Lord through the strange, awful time.
His cause was won! His work was done! come was His glorious day!
His Englishmen should greet Him first! His saints should bear the sway!
Too soon, too soon, this brightness due to latest time they asked;
Their England in too stern a guise her glorious children tasked.
Cold waxed that glowing heart of hers, that mighty hand grew slack,
And heedless of the Good Old Cause, she brought the Stuarts back.
Their England in too stern a guise her glorious children tasked.
Cold waxed that glowing heart of hers, that mighty hand grew slack,
And heedless of the Good Old Cause, she brought the Stuarts back.
Ah! traitors shamëd the proud land where heroes ruled of late,
And where the saints held solemn cheer, there harlots kept foul state:
But still in faithful English hearts the fire undying glowed,
And mighty yet, the Good Old Cause its martyr army showed.
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But still in faithful English hearts the fire undying glowed,
And mighty yet, the Good Old Cause its martyr army showed.
'Midst dungeon gloom, on scaffolds grim, its solemn light beamed on:
O Vane unmoved! O Russell true! O steadfast Algernon!
Full pealed its cheerful trumpet-blast as dying Sidney prayed
That prayer divine that maketh still God's people strong and glad.
O Vane unmoved! O Russell true! O steadfast Algernon!
Full pealed its cheerful trumpet-blast as dying Sidney prayed
That prayer divine that maketh still God's people strong and glad.
O noble blood that helpëd Earth! strong words that Heaven did hear!
For England and the Good Old Cause the Lord would still appear:
He stirrëd up great William's strength, the race accursed cast forth,
And glorified before the world this Island of the North.
For England and the Good Old Cause the Lord would still appear:
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And glorified before the world this Island of the North.
Not vainly wrought she for the Cause, God's glory and her own;
She graved it in her Statute Book, she set it on her throne:
The land that best had served the Cause, its sacred banner bore,
And high uprose her shining front the nations all before.
She graved it in her Statute Book, she set it on her throne:
The land that best had served the Cause, its sacred banner bore,
And high uprose her shining front the nations all before.
O! sometimes with majestic port she bore that banner high—
Ah! sometimes in her slackened grasp it drooped ingloriously;
And others than tried Englishmen would fain that standard raise,
And put her glorious garments on, and take away her praise.
Ah! sometimes in her slackened grasp it drooped ingloriously;
And others than tried Englishmen would fain that standard raise,
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Ah shamëd splendour of those robes so vainly, vilely worn!
Ah banner their weak hands let fall, all stainëd and all torn!
The unwonted brightness blinded them, the unwonted burden tired;
Still English hearts, still English hands the Good Old Cause required.
Ah banner their weak hands let fall, all stainëd and all torn!
The unwonted brightness blinded them, the unwonted burden tired;
Still English hearts, still English hands the Good Old Cause required.
They love it still! they guard it now! it smileth its best smile,
It keepeth still its ancient home, here in the imperial Isle.
O England! hold thy freedom fast, cleave close unto thy laws,
Nor stain the sword, nor drop the shield that guard the Good Old Cause!
It keepeth still its ancient home, here in the imperial Isle.
O England! hold thy freedom fast, cleave close unto thy laws,
Nor stain the sword, nor drop the shield that guard the Good Old Cause!
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