The ballad of Babe Christabel with other Lyrical Poems By Gerald Massey. Fifth Edition, Revised and Enlarged |
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| VOICES OF OUR OWN TIME. |
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 | The ballad of Babe Christabel with other Lyrical Poems |  |
109
VOICES OF OUR OWN TIME.
THE FLEET BEFORE SEBASTOPOL.
Hurrah! we grip the Tyrant now!
And there 's no heart so lowly
But burns to strike a battle-blow,
And win a cause so holy!
The Brave look fearless in the eyes
Of Death, nor cry him quarter;
And 't is no nearer heaven, Boys,
By Land, than 't is by Water!
And O! but a jubilant carouse
Awaits us in our far land,
When we shall thrust up conquering brows,
And take our Country's garland.
And there 's no heart so lowly
But burns to strike a battle-blow,
And win a cause so holy!
The Brave look fearless in the eyes
Of Death, nor cry him quarter;
And 't is no nearer heaven, Boys,
By Land, than 't is by Water!
And O! but a jubilant carouse
Awaits us in our far land,
When we shall thrust up conquering brows,
And take our Country's garland.
O, think how happy eyes will dim,
To greet us on the beaches,
With blissful looks of love that swim
Thro' long luxurious reaches!
They watch us now from out the West,
But all too proud to sorrow
For us who rest on Victory's breast,
Or wear her wreath to-morrow.
And O! but a jubilant carouse
Awaits us in our far land,
When we shall thrust up conquering brows,
And take our Country's garland.
To greet us on the beaches,
With blissful looks of love that swim
Thro' long luxurious reaches!
They watch us now from out the West,
But all too proud to sorrow
For us who rest on Victory's breast,
Or wear her wreath to-morrow.
126
Awaits us in our far land,
When we shall thrust up conquering brows,
And take our Country's garland.
We 'll seek the bed of Death, to win
Fair Freedom's dream of beauty,
Or wrest her from the Tyrant, in
The loving arms of duty.
Then gaily thro' the ocean foam
Shall sail our nobler Argo,
And proudly to our Island-home
We 'll bear the precious cargo.
And O! but a jubilant carouse
Awaits us in our far land,
When we shall thrust up conquering brows,
And take our Country's garland.
Fair Freedom's dream of beauty,
Or wrest her from the Tyrant, in
The loving arms of duty.
Then gaily thro' the ocean foam
Shall sail our nobler Argo,
And proudly to our Island-home
We 'll bear the precious cargo.
And O! but a jubilant carouse
Awaits us in our far land,
When we shall thrust up conquering brows,
And take our Country's garland.
To-day the ancient valour starts,
And the spirit of old story
Shall flash from out heroic hearts,
And kindle England's glory.
Wild voices wail across the sea,—
They cry from many a woe-land,—
Revenge! remember Sinope!
Revenge! remember Poland!
And O! but a jubilant carouse
Awaits us in our far land,
When we shall thrust up conquering brows,
And take our Country's garland.
And the spirit of old story
Shall flash from out heroic hearts,
And kindle England's glory.
Wild voices wail across the sea,—
They cry from many a woe-land,—
Revenge! remember Sinope!
Revenge! remember Poland!
And O! but a jubilant carouse
Awaits us in our far land,
127
And take our Country's garland.
Now, Britons, fight your Ships to-day
As Grenville fought the Spaniard!
And if War's bloodiest game they play,
Have at them grip-and-poignard.
One thrilling shout for England, Ho!
Then, naked for the fight, men,
Dash in like fire upon the foe,
And God defend the Right, men!
And O! but a jubilant carouse
Awaits us in our far land,
When we shall thrust up conquering brows,
And take our Country's garland.
As Grenville fought the Spaniard!
And if War's bloodiest game they play,
Have at them grip-and-poignard.
One thrilling shout for England, Ho!
Then, naked for the fight, men,
Dash in like fire upon the foe,
And God defend the Right, men!
And O! but a jubilant carouse
Awaits us in our far land,
When we shall thrust up conquering brows,
And take our Country's garland.
THINGS WILL GO BETTER YET.
Old Earth with cloud and thorn is rife:
Man hath his miseries still; yet flowers
Make sunshine in the darkest life,
And tint with heaven this world of ours.
And there be hearts all loving,
And love shall love beget;
For now, thank God! we 're moving,
Things will go better yet.
Man hath his miseries still; yet flowers
Make sunshine in the darkest life,
And tint with heaven this world of ours.
And there be hearts all loving,
And love shall love beget;
For now, thank God! we 're moving,
Things will go better yet.
128
From out the brain 't will wrench a tear,
To count our Martyrs by the way;
Yet, bear a hand, my brother dear,
A glorious remnant lives to-day.
The people, leagued and loving,
Shall break the tyrants' net;
And now, thank God! we 're moving,
Things will go better yet.
To count our Martyrs by the way;
Yet, bear a hand, my brother dear,
A glorious remnant lives to-day.
The people, leagued and loving,
Shall break the tyrants' net;
And now, thank God! we 're moving,
Things will go better yet.
130
THE CHIVALRY OF LABOUR.
Uprouse ye now, brave brother-band,
With honest heart, and working hand:
We are but few, toil-tried, and true,
Yet hearts beat high to dare and do:
And who would not a champion be
In Labour's lordlier Chivalry?
With honest heart, and working hand:
We are but few, toil-tried, and true,
Yet hearts beat high to dare and do:
And who would not a champion be
In Labour's lordlier Chivalry?
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We fight! but bear no bloody brand,
We fight to free our Fatherland:
We fight that smiles of love may glow
On lips where curses quiver now!
Hurrah! hurrah! true Knights are we
In Labour's lordlier Chivalry.
We fight to free our Fatherland:
We fight that smiles of love may glow
On lips where curses quiver now!
Hurrah! hurrah! true Knights are we
In Labour's lordlier Chivalry.
O! there be hearts that ache to see
The day-dawn of our victory:
Eyes full of heart-break with us plead,
And Watchers weep, and Martyrs bleed:
O! who would not a Champion be
In Labour's lordlier Chivalry?
The day-dawn of our victory:
Eyes full of heart-break with us plead,
And Watchers weep, and Martyrs bleed:
O! who would not a Champion be
In Labour's lordlier Chivalry?
Work, Brothers mine; work, hand and brain;
We 'll win the Golden Age again:
And Love's Millennial morn shall rise
In happy hearts, and blessed eyes.
Hurrah! hurrah! true Knights are we
In Labour's lordlier Chivalry.
We 'll win the Golden Age again:
And Love's Millennial morn shall rise
In happy hearts, and blessed eyes.
Hurrah! hurrah! true Knights are we
In Labour's lordlier Chivalry.
154
EDEN.
There is not a rift in the blue sky now,
Where a million tempests tore it;
There is not a furrow on Ocean's brow,
Tho' a million years have past o'er it.
And for all the storms and the strifes that have roll'd
Down the ages grim and gory,
Earth weareth her pleasant face, as of old,
And laughs in her morning glory.
And Man—tho' he beareth the brand of Sin,
And the flesh and the devil have bound him—
Hath a spirit within, to old Eden akin,
Only nurture up Eden around him.
Where a million tempests tore it;
There is not a furrow on Ocean's brow,
Tho' a million years have past o'er it.
And for all the storms and the strifes that have roll'd
Down the ages grim and gory,
Earth weareth her pleasant face, as of old,
And laughs in her morning glory.
And Man—tho' he beareth the brand of Sin,
And the flesh and the devil have bound him—
Hath a spirit within, to old Eden akin,
Only nurture up Eden around him.
O the cloud may have fall'n on the human face,
And its lordliest beauty blighted;
For love hath gone out with a dark'ning trace,
Where the inward glory lighted.
Yet the old world of love liveth still in the heart,
As we 've many a sweet revealing;
And its rich fossil-jewels in tears will up-start
With the warm flood of holier feeling.
Ay, Man—tho' he beareth the brand of Sin,
And the flesh and the devil have bound him—
Hath a spirit within, to old Eden akin,
Only nurture up Eden around him.
And its lordliest beauty blighted;
For love hath gone out with a dark'ning trace,
Where the inward glory lighted.
Yet the old world of love liveth still in the heart,
As we 've many a sweet revealing;
And its rich fossil-jewels in tears will up-start
With the warm flood of holier feeling.
155
And the flesh and the devil have bound him—
Hath a spirit within, to old Eden akin,
Only nurture up Eden around him.
O the terrors, the tortures, the miseries dark—
That have curst us, and crusht, and cankered!
Yet, aye, from the Deluge, Humanity's Ark
Hath on some serene Ararat anchored.
O the golden chains that link heaven to earth,
The rusts of all time cannot sever!
Evil shall die in its own dark dearth,
And the Good liveth on for ever.
And Man—tho' he beareth the brand of Sin,
And the flesh and the devil have bound him—
Hath a spirit within, to old Eden akin,
Only nurture up Eden around him.
That have curst us, and crusht, and cankered!
Yet, aye, from the Deluge, Humanity's Ark
Hath on some serene Ararat anchored.
O the golden chains that link heaven to earth,
The rusts of all time cannot sever!
Evil shall die in its own dark dearth,
And the Good liveth on for ever.
And Man—tho' he beareth the brand of Sin,
And the flesh and the devil have bound him—
Hath a spirit within, to old Eden akin,
Only nurture up Eden around him.
| The ballad of Babe Christabel with other Lyrical Poems | |