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Sonnets, Lyrics and Translations

By the Rev. Charles Turner [i.e. Charles Tennyson]
 

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ENGLAND'S HONOUR.
 
 
 
 
 
 
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20

ENGLAND'S HONOUR.

How easily the breath of God o'erwhelms
The nations that presume to live for gain!
And clogs the motion of imperial realms,
As our poor breath the fly upon the pane:
Though our deep-laden argosies rejoice
From port to port to drag the seething sea
Across the world, how helpless we may be
In one brief year, despite our trade and noise!
Too oft, when, burthen'd with our chests and bales,
From the four winds we bring our freightage home,
We help to strike our country's honour dumb;
Her noble voice, once heard above the gales,
Is lost among the stowage, while the prayer
Of our weak neighbours finds us slow to dare.