The Poetical Works of George Barlow :: :: University of Virginia Library

Far from this our white-cliffed island, far beyond the red sun's dying gold,
Thou art king and chosen ruler, thou whom here our grey old towers behold.

London stands to-day the centre of an earth that gazes at thy throne:
As great friendly stars, it may be, watch to-day the tiny star we own;

214

Small amid the constellations,—yet a mightier task may here be done
By the hugely toiling races than the task of many a soulless sun.

Here on earth is love and England, here on earth the sweet face of thy Queen:
Here Victoria reigned, and passing, linked our land to heavens as yet unseen.

Here the princely Consort laboured, as he labours still with force divine,
Leading Science on to conquest, Art from noble unto nobler shrine.

Here must woman be delivered from her stifling bonds of timeless wrong:
Here must all that wail of children change at morning's soft kiss to a song.

Not by size of stars and planets is the worth of starry toil appraised;
Only by the deeds that lift them, righteous acts whereby the Soul is raised.

215

Soul must be the same for ever, changeless through the dim night's purple hall,—
Still the same, alert, progressive, plastic ever in farthest star of all;

Pliant still beneath the moulding of the mighty God whose wings pervade
All the ceaseless night of shadow, all the sunlit day that knows not shade.

All the suns and stars united chant one chorus round God's central Throne;
Unto Love they all pay homage, Love they worship, lightcrowned Love alone.

Earth's vast mission who shall measure, who shall say what victories may be planned
Here, our hearts but feebly guessing at the marvels wrought by mortal hand.

For we men may work with angels, eyes regard us from the heights of air;
Not for us alone our planet twines the pearls of morning in her hair.

216

Nay, for angel-eyes she shineth, meet for angel-armies to behold;
Radiant with her wild seas' sapphires, rich with sundawn's and with sunset's gold.

Not alone she treads the ether, sister-orbs beside her pathway tread;
She can gaze in loving faces, watch bright star-helms clustered round her head.

But to-day her heart is joyous, for in England lordliest of her lands
Ring the trumpets wild, acclaiming one who grave before an Empire stands.

Loneliest heart in clamorous London, uncompanioned in his vast demesne:
Yet for ever royally mated to the bright divine heart of his Queen.

Lonely, in his power far-reaching: for an Empire such as he must sway
Never Greek or Roman dreamed of, earth beheld its like not till to-day.

217

Lonely: yet with millions watching, loving, praying, hoping—through the air
Never yet such blessings speeded, launched upon the golden plumes of prayer.

Lonely: yet with God to aid him, and the fearless hearts of England's sons;
Flash of English swords, if need be, and at need the baying of England's guns.

Round the blue-waved coast, if need be, such a mighty chant as never of yore
Pealed from iron throats of cannon, thundering past the virgin-girdled shore.

Great ancestral hearts are with him,—hearts of kings who watched our island rise
First of all to starry grandeur, sunlike then confront superber skies.

Souls of England's strong-brained statesmen, all are heeding, summoned from afar;
Called to-day towards spheres we traverse, drawn again to this their well-loved star.

218

Many a mighty gaze is watching, eyes beyond our surmise pure and bright
Flash to-day on English faces somewhat of their own world's mystic light.

Deep communion with their spirits England's King and Queen to-day may hold;
Meet to-day in thought and yearning hearts that swayed their warrior-realm of old:

Hearts sweet-dowered as English roses, souls who made the world-wide waves their home,
Hands that held the swords that conquered, hearts that loved the storm-birds and the foam.

All the future gleams before him, King of England, Ruler of the strange
Mystic East no soul has fathomed, where man's dreams beyond man's vision range.

Ruler of far Afric's hill-sides, where our English slain lie densely strown;
Men who gave their lives for Empire, holding Empire one with Freedom's throne.

219

Ruler of the young vast nations, who with hearts most pure and souls most free
Sent their sons to aid our children, racing each with each from sea to sea.

All the future gleams before him: priceless, awful is the gift Time brings
To this latest English Monarch, gift undreamed-of by past queens or kings.

Chance to aid at moulding England, and through England this our whole strange star
Into something pure and stainless, such it may be as pure planets are.

Chance of lifting upward, heavenward, towards the realm whence ever, grand and sweet,
Bends Victoria, this her England that her star-smile loves to guide and greet.

Chance of winning, when the moment comes for laying both sword and sceptre down,
Even a higher than of England, even God's loyal Servant's deathless Crown.