 | English Roses |  |
ENGLAND.
England, I cannot love thee more,
And I would never love thee less;
Truth is the bulwark of thy shore,
Thy bases all are righteousness.
O, on this glory nations lean,
That lack the charters in thy hand;
And nothing common or unclean
Hath place or portion in our land,
Mother of States and parliaments,
What greater boon could country give;
That grants the isles and continents,
To breathe thy liberty and live?
And I would never love thee less;
Truth is the bulwark of thy shore,
Thy bases all are righteousness.
O, on this glory nations lean,
That lack the charters in thy hand;
And nothing common or unclean
Hath place or portion in our land,
Mother of States and parliaments,
What greater boon could country give;
That grants the isles and continents,
To breathe thy liberty and live?
Thine honour is the peoples' trust,
That in its awful shadow sleep;
And, as thou doest what thou must,
Thy judgments are a mighty deep.
And from the greatness of the sea
Thy pathway takes its tidal force,
And rolls its grand resistless plea
Along a predetermined course.
Thy spacious law is noonday light,
It drives out darkness and the wrong;
And, as the mountains in its might,
Stands round the kingdoms and is strong.
That in its awful shadow sleep;
And, as thou doest what thou must,
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And from the greatness of the sea
Thy pathway takes its tidal force,
And rolls its grand resistless plea
Along a predetermined course.
Thy spacious law is noonday light,
It drives out darkness and the wrong;
And, as the mountains in its might,
Stands round the kingdoms and is strong.
England, I cannot love thee more,
And I would never love thee less;
Thou bearest, what none ever bore,
The habit of sweet holiness.
For justice in thy courts doth sit,
To make their counsels broad and true;
And deals, with purpose infinite,
Alike to God and man their due.
Thou art a champion of the right,
Though this be but a lonely ledge;
And always in the van wilt fight,
For freedom and its sacred pledge.
And I would never love thee less;
Thou bearest, what none ever bore,
The habit of sweet holiness.
For justice in thy courts doth sit,
To make their counsels broad and true;
And deals, with purpose infinite,
Alike to God and man their due.
Thou art a champion of the right,
Though this be but a lonely ledge;
And always in the van wilt fight,
For freedom and its sacred pledge.
Thy rule is peace, thy breath is power
To which all ranks and races bend;
The whole world is thy dreadful dower,
Shaped by thee to its destined end.
Thy robe is empire, and thy state
The majesty of dawning skies;
And on thy shoulder, fair as fate,
The burden of the future lies.
Dare to be greater yet, and lift
The earth on that eternal way;
For thine is heaven, and in its gift
The promise of the brighter day.
To which all ranks and races bend;
The whole world is thy dreadful dower,
Shaped by thee to its destined end.
Thy robe is empire, and thy state
The majesty of dawning skies;
And on thy shoulder, fair as fate,
The burden of the future lies.
Dare to be greater yet, and lift
The earth on that eternal way;
For thine is heaven, and in its gift
The promise of the brighter day.
| English Roses | |