English Roses by F. Harald Williams [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] |
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| II. |
LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!—1897. |
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| VI. |
 | English Roses |  |
LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!—1897.
England hails thee
With a thousand thousand voices,
Walling round the world in love;
Nothing fails thee
Of our homage which rejoices,
We can reverence thee above.
Lo, the passion of one plaudit
Like the trump of the last Audit.
Leaps obedient to thy hand;
Crowning sweetly
Yet again, and crowning meetly
Our First Lady of the Land.
With a thousand thousand voices,
Walling round the world in love;
Nothing fails thee
Of our homage which rejoices,
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Lo, the passion of one plaudit
Like the trump of the last Audit.
Leaps obedient to thy hand;
Crowning sweetly
Yet again, and crowning meetly
Our First Lady of the Land.
England holds thee
Very dear as wife and mother,
Walking like great Queens of Eld;
Honour folds thee,
As it never did another
Though by fondest flattery swelled.
Thine the glory to have journeyed
Long with us and by us tourneyed,
But with never stain or brand;
Gently bearing
Our worst griefs and gladly sharing,
Spotless Lady of the Land.
Very dear as wife and mother,
Walking like great Queens of Eld;
Honour folds thee,
As it never did another
Though by fondest flattery swelled.
Thine the glory to have journeyed
Long with us and by us tourneyed,
But with never stain or brand;
Gently bearing
Our worst griefs and gladly sharing,
Spotless Lady of the Land.
England owns thee
As her righteous ruler proudly,
Who hast lived the longest reign;
Love enthrones thee
In our hearts and praises loudly,
With a pleasure none do feign.
See, from farthest moor and mountain
Flows the tribute as a fountain,
Come the gifts with common band;
Thus conspiring
To acclaim with truth untiring
Thee, our Lady of the Land.
As her righteous ruler proudly,
Who hast lived the longest reign;
Love enthrones thee
In our hearts and praises loudly,
With a pleasure none do feign.
See, from farthest moor and mountain
Flows the tribute as a fountain,
Come the gifts with common band;
Thus conspiring
To acclaim with truth untiring
Thee, our Lady of the Land.
England takes thee
Now unto her bosom nearer,
Ramparting thee strongly round;
England makes thee
Many times our Queen and dearer,
In her loyalty's new bound.
Yet once more art thou anointed
With our prayers, and re-appointed
To a realm by justice planned;
Thou through ages
Shalt adorn our brightest pages,
Chosen Lady of the Land.
Now unto her bosom nearer,
Ramparting thee strongly round;
England makes thee
Many times our Queen and dearer,
In her loyalty's new bound.
Yet once more art thou anointed
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To a realm by justice planned;
Thou through ages
Shalt adorn our brightest pages,
Chosen Lady of the Land.
| English Roses | |