 | Jubilee greeting at Spithead to the men of Greater Britain By Theodore Watts-Dunton |  |
II. PART II.
“‘British’ always has included all nationalities within
the mother-islands of the British Empire.”
George Baden-Powell, Times, June 16, 1897.
15
I
Earth's memory holds a living visionOf all the sights she saw since time began;
These shores record her slow transition
From age to age while yet she yearned for man;
But when the Future makes a sign—
When Nature's mystic eyes prognosticate—
'Tis in the sunset halls that shine
Builded of cloud and air and brine:
Brothers, that untried fleet but makes me pine
To read her fate.
16
II
Through this great age, with heights aboveAll other heights of England's Day save one—
Through this long reign of her we love
Hath England basked in Fortune's summer sun;
But not then, e'en then, when heedless Time
Saw Stratford's truant boy read Avon's word,
Did England's path seem so sublime
As now, when out from every clime
Her children flock to hear the Channel-chime
Their fathers heard.
17
III
Fools who believed themselves her friends,And foes less dire than friends because of wrath,
Would turn her from her noble ends;
But Nature's mystic finger traced her path:
Strife hath been hers, not oft with peers,
Her hand's far shadow quelled the savage foe,
Yet sometimes falling on mine ears,
Voices have vexed my soul with fears:
What sorrows in the womb of future years
Shall England know?
18
IV
How shall she stand when round the worldEnvy shall hiss—Hell's Cobra-de-Capello—
With flicker of tongue o'er folds half curled
Dull eyes of malice set in dingy yellow,
Baring her fangs, spreading her hood,
To strike our England, her whose stainless brand—
Whetted to slaughter Slaughter's brood—
Uneager even for foeman's blood—
Strikes ever home but ever strikes for good,—
How shall she stand?
19
V
Still, this sweet music of your voices,Speaking from over-sea our Nelson's tongue,
Comes with a thought that now rejoices
My sinking heart, a thought that makes it young,
And She seems young for whom was wrought
What Drake hath done and Nelson, She
Whose blood of heroes dead hath bought
Empires for you—a glorious thought
Of England's mighty future that hath brought
New joy to me.
20
VI
If but the thews of EnglishmenIn Drake's great day were strong for every foe,
Shall England find her conqueror when
Not English thews alone deal England's blow,
When Scotland, that twin-sister, who,
Alone among the nations, met her might
With eyes unblenched, who ne'er withdrew
From battle till her heather's blue
Shone red with southron blood of men she slew,
Strengthens the fight?
21
VII
When Ireland, once so fiercely braveGainst England, standing now with many a scar
From many a fight on field and wave—
From Waterloo and Nile and Trafalgar—
Brings memories of the men who died
To keep two deathless Isles of Freedom free;
When sons of three Great sisters ride
In those proud ships with equal pride
Ready for all the world and, side by side
Share Sovereignty.
22
VIII
This makes the billows leap alongWith finer gallop—leap because they know
How love hath made the sisters strong
To meet the foe, though all the world be foe—
Because they hear another sound,
A girdle of music round the orb of waters—
Voices from those who, standing round
All shores where ocean waves rebound—
Stand there with British feet on British ground
Britannia's Daughters—
23
IX
Voices of those whose bond of love,Binding them each to each o'er every sea,
Is love of Her whose pulses move
To peans of an Empire's Jubilee;
Voices that come from distant lands—
From elfin halls where gem-crowned Africa
Opens at last her mystic hands,
And from that eldest born who stands
Between the world's two sister-ocean strands,
Great Canada;
24
X
And from those sisters of the South,Betrothed to stars of deeper soul than ours,
Whose young lips feel the mother's mouth,
Who still remember scent of English flowers:
New Zealand shedding, far away,
Fragrance of Albion o'er the vast expanse;
Australias, round whose coral way
Pacific billows write in spray
A word in sunbeams on the gleaming day—
Faith's word, “Advance.”
25
XI
All say, “Beloved Angel, ThouWhose flag above Thy Channel ne'er is furled
Thine England's wider moat is now
Ocean, who lisps her name around the world;
In Northern sun—in Southern sun,
True daughters, yea to very death, are we
Of her whose morn hath but begun—
Whose robe, our hero-fathers won—
That robe the great uniting Sea hath spun—
Her Subject Sea.”
| Jubilee greeting at Spithead to the men of Greater Britain By Theodore Watts-Dunton | |