 | Songs for Sailors |  |
THE ANGLO-AMERICAN BOAT-RACE.
August 29th, 1869.
Come all who speak our English tongue, come here today and see
How Hellas trained her heroes for her greatness yet to be.
Not only in the strifes of thought and speech she trained them on;
From sterner strifes they caught the hearts that won at Marathon;
Where Cronion's rounded summit on Olympia's plain looked down,
There was their school of glory, there they grasped the palm and crown.
Do we scorn the great race, greatest in the world's yet youthful day,
That for the strife with nations trained its mighty thus in play?
Ah, trust me, English-tongued ones, Greece knew her gain in this,
On Alpheus' banks the laurels grew, her wreaths of Salamis.
Blind were the eyes that saw not that the strength to do and die
Was gathered where her racers sped, her chariots thundered by;
There was the arm made strong, and there the eye and nerve grew sure,
There better still her sons grew stern to dare and to endure.
There their blood grew hot for glory and fevered to be great,
Not only for itself but for its race and mother-state;
And there her scattered nations all, all who her tongue could speak,
Laid hate aside in the one thought and pride that they were Greek.
How Hellas trained her heroes for her greatness yet to be.
Not only in the strifes of thought and speech she trained them on;
From sterner strifes they caught the hearts that won at Marathon;
Where Cronion's rounded summit on Olympia's plain looked down,
There was their school of glory, there they grasped the palm and crown.
51
That for the strife with nations trained its mighty thus in play?
Ah, trust me, English-tongued ones, Greece knew her gain in this,
On Alpheus' banks the laurels grew, her wreaths of Salamis.
Blind were the eyes that saw not that the strength to do and die
Was gathered where her racers sped, her chariots thundered by;
There was the arm made strong, and there the eye and nerve grew sure,
There better still her sons grew stern to dare and to endure.
There their blood grew hot for glory and fevered to be great,
Not only for itself but for its race and mother-state;
And there her scattered nations all, all who her tongue could speak,
Laid hate aside in the one thought and pride that they were Greek.
Is that lesson lost upon us, on our swarming nations, say?
Do you feel Greek wisdom foolishness on Thames' green banks to-day?
Is Wellington not in your thought? Do you hold his words untrue,
When they said that Eton's cricket-grounds won for us Waterloo?
In contests such as these, O men, those hearts were trained and tried,
That 'neath the burning Indian sun with Havelock conq'ring died;
From the stern raptures of such strifes are born the coming smiles
That 'neath new Nelsons yet shall win Trafalgars and new Niles.
Stretch to your work, you—our dark blue—your hearts on victory set!
Our shouts shall tell you England's heart throbs to such courage yet.
Pull with a will, you of the pink and white; in you we see
The hearts of Sherman's Southern march, the souls that struck down Lee;
Our love warms to you; strangers? as such we know you not;
Your English blood, your English speech, all else today's forgot.
You're of the earth you tread to-day; from its great fathers sprung,
Free with the freedom Milton thought, and great with Shakspeare's tongue.
What matters though between your homes and ours may roll the sea?
You are of us; you're English still, where'er your dwellings be.
One be our thought to-day; to this let all else now give place,
In brotherhood we meet to prove the manhood of our race.
Do you feel Greek wisdom foolishness on Thames' green banks to-day?
Is Wellington not in your thought? Do you hold his words untrue,
When they said that Eton's cricket-grounds won for us Waterloo?
In contests such as these, O men, those hearts were trained and tried,
That 'neath the burning Indian sun with Havelock conq'ring died;
From the stern raptures of such strifes are born the coming smiles
That 'neath new Nelsons yet shall win Trafalgars and new Niles.
52
Our shouts shall tell you England's heart throbs to such courage yet.
Pull with a will, you of the pink and white; in you we see
The hearts of Sherman's Southern march, the souls that struck down Lee;
Our love warms to you; strangers? as such we know you not;
Your English blood, your English speech, all else today's forgot.
You're of the earth you tread to-day; from its great fathers sprung,
Free with the freedom Milton thought, and great with Shakspeare's tongue.
What matters though between your homes and ours may roll the sea?
You are of us; you're English still, where'er your dwellings be.
One be our thought to-day; to this let all else now give place,
In brotherhood we meet to prove the manhood of our race.
Stream down from roof and window, flag of a hundred wars!
Thrill to the coming contest with the glorious stripes and stars!
Hark! with the rush of thousands, rail, r ad, and river hum—
To bank and garden, wharf and roof, how London's myriads come!
Along four miles of river to-day a nation ranks;
A people, swarming Thames, to-day is gazing from your banks.
Never since through the sunshine your gleaming waters ran,
Have you, O Thames, run seaward so gazed upon by man;
And up and up the cleared broad stream gazes the mighty crowd,
And now a hush creeps down its lines, its myriads late so loud;
A lull of expectation that watches yet in vain
With a longing that, as minutes pass, grows keen almost to pain.
They're off! Hark! down the swarming banks rolls the long thundering cheer:
Ever it bursts and bursts again, and ever yet more near.
Well may the bridge gleam bright with eyes, from roadway, pier, and chain,
Well, well, from window, roof, and tree, unnumbered eyes may strain;
Watch well that crowded headland, that hides the next long reach!
They come! Hark! in a storm of cheers, its silent hearts find speech.
Thrill to the coming contest with the glorious stripes and stars!
Hark! with the rush of thousands, rail, r ad, and river hum—
To bank and garden, wharf and roof, how London's myriads come!
Along four miles of river to-day a nation ranks;
A people, swarming Thames, to-day is gazing from your banks.
Never since through the sunshine your gleaming waters ran,
Have you, O Thames, run seaward so gazed upon by man;
53
And now a hush creeps down its lines, its myriads late so loud;
A lull of expectation that watches yet in vain
With a longing that, as minutes pass, grows keen almost to pain.
They're off! Hark! down the swarming banks rolls the long thundering cheer:
Ever it bursts and bursts again, and ever yet more near.
Well may the bridge gleam bright with eyes, from roadway, pier, and chain,
Well, well, from window, roof, and tree, unnumbered eyes may strain;
Watch well that crowded headland, that hides the next long reach!
They come! Hark! in a storm of cheers, its silent hearts find speech.
Through waving hats, through thunders that from mad thousands leap,
Round, round they come! hurrah, hurrah! down, down the tide they sweep;
Now, by the gods, brave rowers, in this day's noblest strife,
Such moments as you're breathing now are worth dull years of life.
O, nobly matched!—full hardly the gazers can descry
Which leads as, almost head to head, each four-oar flashes by.
Hurrah, bend to it, Oxford! to lose will you begin?
Hurrah, brave boasts of Harvard! have you not come to win?
A hundred waiting millions are listening 'neath the sun,
Ay, twenty nations hunger, men, to know which crew has won.
On to the goal! who dares to flag? who dares to bring defeat?
Steer, coxswains, steer, as if with you alone it lay to beat.
Magenta wins! no, blue creeps up, the dark blue creeps ahead;
On, Harvard, on! or victory's lost; on, lead as you have lead.
See Mortlake's here; a minute more, and no more can be done.
Cheer, England, cheer; two lengths ahead, the blue, the blue has won!
And cheer, cheer too, the pink and white, for long will England say,
‘Never was victory harder won than that we won today.’
Round, round they come! hurrah, hurrah! down, down the tide they sweep;
Now, by the gods, brave rowers, in this day's noblest strife,
Such moments as you're breathing now are worth dull years of life.
O, nobly matched!—full hardly the gazers can descry
Which leads as, almost head to head, each four-oar flashes by.
Hurrah, bend to it, Oxford! to lose will you begin?
Hurrah, brave boasts of Harvard! have you not come to win?
A hundred waiting millions are listening 'neath the sun,
Ay, twenty nations hunger, men, to know which crew has won.
On to the goal! who dares to flag? who dares to bring defeat?
Steer, coxswains, steer, as if with you alone it lay to beat.
54
On, Harvard, on! or victory's lost; on, lead as you have lead.
See Mortlake's here; a minute more, and no more can be done.
Cheer, England, cheer; two lengths ahead, the blue, the blue has won!
And cheer, cheer too, the pink and white, for long will England say,
‘Never was victory harder won than that we won today.’
| Songs for Sailors | |