A birthday tribute Addressed to Her Royal Highness the Princess Alexandrina Victoria, on attaining her eighteenth year. By L. E. L. [i.e. Landon] With a portrait |
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 | A birthday tribute |  |
The present looks on thee, with eyes
Of love, and joy, and enterprise;
They shine as shines a rising star,
That lights the unknown and the far.
Of love, and joy, and enterprise;
They shine as shines a rising star,
That lights the unknown and the far.
To prophesy the future, cast
A glance upon thy country's past.
How has our England changed since first
The Roman Cæsar on her burst:
And something lingers with us still
Of their indomitable will.
Like theirs, our banners, when unfurled,
Have swept o'er half a conquered world.
No stranger power hath sought our coast,
But to bequeath their proudest boast.
A glance upon thy country's past.
How has our England changed since first
The Roman Cæsar on her burst:
And something lingers with us still
Of their indomitable will.
Like theirs, our banners, when unfurled,
Have swept o'er half a conquered world.
No stranger power hath sought our coast,
But to bequeath their proudest boast.
Hengist and Horsa, Saxon kings,
On their proud galley's sweeping wings:
Lords of the banner and the breeze,
Gave us our empire o'er the seas;
On their proud galley's sweeping wings:
Lords of the banner and the breeze,
Gave us our empire o'er the seas;
Next came the Norman William's gallant power,
Those barons brought a noble dower
Of minstrel harp, and stainless sword,
High courtesy, and knightly word.
Then sea and land had done their best
To grace our Island of the West.
Those barons brought a noble dower
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High courtesy, and knightly word.
Then sea and land had done their best
To grace our Island of the West.
And never since hath foreign brand
Flashed over our unconquered land;
Never hath rung the tocsin bell,
That other soils have known too well.
Sacred, inviolate, unstained,
Have England's fields and hearths remained.
Our victories have been won afar,
Our homes have only heard of war.
They gave thy name, and since thy birth
Peace, dove-like, broodeth over earth:
Still be its shadow o'er thy throne—
Enough of laurels are our own.
Flashed over our unconquered land;
Never hath rung the tocsin bell,
That other soils have known too well.
Sacred, inviolate, unstained,
Have England's fields and hearths remained.
Our victories have been won afar,
Our homes have only heard of war.
They gave thy name, and since thy birth
Peace, dove-like, broodeth over earth:
Still be its shadow o'er thy throne—
Enough of laurels are our own.
“Enough of laurels are our own”—Conquest is the commencement of civilization; it is also its scourge. With us, the sail and the sword have gone together, and commerce has consolidated what was gained by war. We have now to civilize what we have subdued: it is ours to bestow knowledge, freedom, and faith. Education, settled laws, and Christianity must follow the course of our victories and our manufactures.
For us there yet remains
A nobler conquest far;
A nobler conquest far;
We must pay back the past, the debt we owe:
Let us around dispense
Light, hope, intelligence,
Till blessings track our steps where'er we go.
Let us around dispense
Light, hope, intelligence,
Till blessings track our steps where'er we go.
O England, thine be the deliverer's meed,
Be thy great empire known
By hearts made all thine own,
Through thy free Laws and thy immortal Creed.
Be thy great empire known
By hearts made all thine own,
Through thy free Laws and thy immortal Creed.
| A birthday tribute | |