 | Gathered poems of Ernest Myers |  |
138
PACISQUE IMPONERE MOREM
The flame of battle burns no more
For warrior Briton, warrior Boer;
No more their answering thunder fills
The hollows of the fortress hills;
No more the murderous marksmen hide
Entrenched along the mountain-side;
No more our lines with gathering speed
Press onward to their desperate deed,
And, fired beyond all human fear,
Storm the fell rampart with a cheer.
For warrior Briton, warrior Boer;
No more their answering thunder fills
The hollows of the fortress hills;
No more the murderous marksmen hide
Entrenched along the mountain-side;
No more our lines with gathering speed
Press onward to their desperate deed,
And, fired beyond all human fear,
Storm the fell rampart with a cheer.
Sons of the North, one toil is done;
Now be a bloodless task begun!
Of that redoubled work of Rome
The weightier half is yet to come:
“The proud are crushed, the vanquisht spared,”
Now be the paths of peace prepared!
Now be a bloodless task begun!
Of that redoubled work of Rome
The weightier half is yet to come:
139
Now be the paths of peace prepared!
Behold, the long-distracted land
Lies in the hollow of our hand,
And where the opposing flags have flown
One flag must fly, and one alone.
Even now the foe has felt the light
Pierce his dim cave of truthless night,
And owns with half-amazed relief
The chivalry of an English chief.
Slowly his clouded brow shall clear,
Lightened of all but wholesome fear,
Till Time have purged his better part
From falsities that flecked his heart,
To earn a freedom full as true
As any that ere now he knew.
Lies in the hollow of our hand,
And where the opposing flags have flown
One flag must fly, and one alone.
Even now the foe has felt the light
Pierce his dim cave of truthless night,
And owns with half-amazed relief
The chivalry of an English chief.
Slowly his clouded brow shall clear,
Lightened of all but wholesome fear,
Till Time have purged his better part
From falsities that flecked his heart,
To earn a freedom full as true
As any that ere now he knew.
Britain, thy task to frame the State!
No new achievement for thy fate—
(So witness by St. Lawrence flood
Wolfe and Montcalm in brotherhood,
While o'er the Indian sea shall speak
The wild Pathán, the warrior Sikh)—
Thy task to heal the scars of strife
By lessons from an Empire's life,
To blend the strains of rival blood,
To build the road, to bridge the flood,
To sow amid the scattered garths
Light from our veterans' loyal hearths,
To lead the land in willing awe
To learn and love a juster law,
To know with gradual new delight
The restful rule of equal right,
And 'neath thy large and liberal sway
Work out her own redemption day.
Then shall the ghosts of greed and lies
Fly hellward from that fair sunrise,
And the swart storm-cloud palely cease,
Lost in the broad Britannic Peace.
No new achievement for thy fate—
(So witness by St. Lawrence flood
Wolfe and Montcalm in brotherhood,
140
The wild Pathán, the warrior Sikh)—
Thy task to heal the scars of strife
By lessons from an Empire's life,
To blend the strains of rival blood,
To build the road, to bridge the flood,
To sow amid the scattered garths
Light from our veterans' loyal hearths,
To lead the land in willing awe
To learn and love a juster law,
To know with gradual new delight
The restful rule of equal right,
And 'neath thy large and liberal sway
Work out her own redemption day.
Then shall the ghosts of greed and lies
Fly hellward from that fair sunrise,
And the swart storm-cloud palely cease,
Lost in the broad Britannic Peace.
| Gathered poems of Ernest Myers | |