A batch of war ballads By Martin F. Tupper |
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| III. | III.
THE LION AND THE BEAR. |
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 | A batch of war ballads |  |
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III. THE LION AND THE BEAR.
England, home of holy Light,
Where the peaceful virtues dwell,—
England, lover of the Right
For thy weal almost too well,—
Friend of all by wrong oppress'd,
Foe to all who dare that wrong,
Now at length thy patient rest
Break,—for vengeance swift and strong!
Where the peaceful virtues dwell,—
England, lover of the Right
For thy weal almost too well,—
Friend of all by wrong oppress'd,
Foe to all who dare that wrong,
Now at length thy patient rest
Break,—for vengeance swift and strong!
What a pity, what a shame,
That one madman's lust of power
So can set the world aflame
And its crop of peace devour;
That this bad ambitious Czar
Thus can human progress check,
And let loose the storms of war
So much happiness to wreck!
That one madman's lust of power
So can set the world aflame
And its crop of peace devour;
That this bad ambitious Czar
Thus can human progress check,
And let loose the storms of war
So much happiness to wreck!
O that Judgment from High Heaven
Fell upon that caitiff first!
O that all this thundery leven
On his single head might burst,
Ere so many myriads groan
For the woes his lust hath bred,
Would that God on Mercy's throne
Struck the world's disturber dead!
Fell upon that caitiff first!
O that all this thundery leven
On his single head might burst,
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For the woes his lust hath bred,
Would that God on Mercy's throne
Struck the world's disturber dead!
But,—if Providence allows,
In His wisdom dark and deep,
This one reveller to carouse
On the tears that myriads weep,—
Up, Great England! let him feel
That thy might can match his own;
Set thy giant armèd heel
On this rude barbarian's throne!
In His wisdom dark and deep,
This one reveller to carouse
On the tears that myriads weep,—
Up, Great England! let him feel
That thy might can match his own;
Set thy giant armèd heel
On this rude barbarian's throne!
Tread his honour in the dust;
To the winds his pride be tost,—
And for his ambitious lust
Make his coffers pay the cost:
Waste no courtesies ill-timed
On this Scythian burglar-chief,
But his hands, by crime begrimed,
Pinion like a common thief!
To the winds his pride be tost,—
And for his ambitious lust
Make his coffers pay the cost:
Waste no courtesies ill-timed
On this Scythian burglar-chief,
But his hands, by crime begrimed,
Pinion like a common thief!
Forced, as champion of the right,
Forced, as pledged against the wrong,
Forced, reluctantly, to fight
After peaceful suffering long,—
Now, since Duty calls, at length
Rouse thee from thy slumbrous lair,
And with all thy Lion strength
Rend this rough marauding Bear!
Forced, as pledged against the wrong,
Forced, reluctantly, to fight
After peaceful suffering long,—
Now, since Duty calls, at length
Rouse thee from thy slumbrous lair,
And with all thy Lion strength
Rend this rough marauding Bear!
| A batch of war ballads | |