A. Song of the Sea 
 My Lady of Dreams 
 
 And Other. Poems 
 
 ric Mackay
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 RIVERSIDE
 
 V
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA 
 MY LADY OF DREAMS 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA 
 MY LADY OF DREAMS 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 ERIC MACKAY 
 
 AUTHOR OF "LOVE LETTERS OF A VIOLINIST' 
 
 METHUEN & CO. 
 36 ESSEX STREET, LONDON 
 
 1895

 
 CONTENTS 
 
 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Song of the Sea : Ode for Imperial Federation 7 
 
 My Lady of Dreams 
 
 
 IS 
 
 Shelley's Monument at Via Reggio 
 
 
 26 
 
 The Prince's Return from Russia 
 
 
 
 31 
 
 The Lark's Song in April 
 
 
 
 35 
 
 Lines to a Dead Bard 
 
 
 
 42 
 
 Man the Fleet ! 
 
 
 
 49 
 
 The Falls of Foyers 
 
 
 
 53 
 
 Sea Voices . 
 
 
 
 57 
 
 The Queletzd 
 
 
 
 62 
 
 The Dead Tsar 
 
 
 
 67 
 
 A Love Song 
 
 
 
 74 
 
 The Death Day of Tennyson 
 
 
 
 76 
 
 Thorns 
 
 
 
 82 
 
 Moushka 
 
 
 
 87
 
 y 
 
 VI CONTENTS 
 
 Odes— 
 
 The Royal Marriage Ode 
 A Choral Ode to Liberty 
 Hymn to the Rising Sun 
 The White Rose of the Crown 
 Ode to an Ideal Poet 
 The Song of the Flag 
 
 PAGE 
 
 97 
 
 120 
 132 
 
 I46 
 153
 
 A SONG OF THE SEA 
 
 AN ODE FOR IMPERIAL FEDERATION 
 
 I 
 
 Free as the wind that leaps from out the 
 
 North, 
 When storms are hurrying forth, 
 Up-springs the voice of England, trumpet- 
 clear, 
 Which all the world shall hear, 
 As one may hear God's thunder over-head, — 
 A voice that echoes through the sunset red, 
 And through the fiery portals of the morn 
 Where, day by day, the golden hours are 
 
 born, — 
 A voice to urge the strengthening of the bands
 
 8 A SONG OF THE SEA 
 
 That bind our Empire Lands 
 
 With such a love as none shall put to scorn ! 
 
 II 
 
 They little know our England who deny 
 The claim we have, from zone to furthest 
 
 zone, 
 To belt the beauteous earth, 
 And treat the clamorous ocean as our own 
 In all the measuring of its monstrous girth. 
 The tempest calls to us, and we reply ; 
 And not, as cowards do, in under-tone ! 
 The sun that sets for others sets no more 
 On Britain's world-wide shore 
 Which all the tides of all the seas have known. 
 
 Ill 
 Our ways are on the waters wan and wild, 
 When cloud on cloud, up-piled,
 
 ODE FOR IMPERIAL FEDERATION 9 
 
 Reveal the fume and frenzy of the blast 
 
 That shrills and hurries past, 
 
 As if to wreck a ship unseen of Heaven, 
 
 Ere yet the dreadful levin 
 
 Rips up the dark with fingers as of fire ; 
 
 And there we sate our strength and our desire 
 
 In thuds of storm and buffetings of fate ; 
 
 And there we conquer in the glad sun's ken, 
 
 And there we lie unceasingly in wait 
 
 For wondrous morrows unforeseen of men. 
 
 IV 
 The ocean, the great ocean, loves us much, 
 And all those ships of ours that we have 
 
 manned ; 
 Aye, and it revels in the tremulous touch 
 Of our sweet margin-sand ; 
 And on its bosom wears in shine and shower, 
 As women wear a (lower,
 
 IO A SONG OF THE SEA 
 
 Each new-annexed dominion of the Crown, 
 To be the trophy of our widening power, — 
 An isle of fair renown 
 
 Where Britons build a bulwark or a town, — 
 Or some out-lying length of heathen soil 
 Where swart, ungodly men are taught to pray, 
 And do the deeds of prowess and of toil. 
 For so the sponsors of our ocean-might 
 Have re-affirmed the reasons of the right 
 Of our triumphant rule in war and peace; 
 And none shall daunt us, none shall say us 
 
 nay, 
 Or bid the pageant of our glories cease. 
 
 V 
 We have no lust of strife : 
 We seek no vile dissension for base ends ; 
 Freedom and fame and England are old 
 friends !
 
 ODE FOR IMPERIAL FEDERATION I I 
 
 We have a sword for valour, — not a knife 
 
 For Murder's work in history ; and we know 
 
 What truths we taught the foe 
 
 At well-fought Trafalgar ! 
 
 Who doubts us when our armies are a-field, 
 
 With our good flag revealed, 
 
 And every fold thereof a triumph-sign 
 
 To tell of martial feats achieved afar, 
 
 Beyond earth's central line ? 
 
 But ours a better, ours a holier creed, 
 
 Than wounds and waste and wantonness of 
 
 deed 
 That turn to glory in the after-shine. 
 For we have shown that Victory is not dumb 
 When Peace and Pity plead for Brotherhood ; 
 And evermore, unshent, we have withstood 
 The claims and clamours of down-treading 
 
 war. 
 Yet if our foes desire it, let them come,
 
 12 A SONG OF THE SEA 
 
 Whate'er their numbers be ! 
 
 They know the road to England, mile by 
 
 mile, 
 And they shall learn, full soon, that strength 
 
 nor guile 
 Will much avail them in an English sea ; 
 We will not hurl them backward to the 
 
 waves, — 
 We'll give them graves ! 
 
 VI 
 
 Tis much to be so honoured in the main, 
 
 And feel no further stain 
 
 Than one's own blood out-poured in lieu of 
 
 wine. 
 'Tis much to die in England, and for this 
 To win the sabre-kiss 
 
 Of some true man who deems his cause divine, 
 And loves his country well.
 
 ODE FOR IMPERIAL FEDERATION 1 3 
 
 A foe may calmly dwell 
 
 In our sweet soil with daisies for his quilt, — 
 
 Their snows to hide his guilt, 
 
 And earth's good warmth about him where 
 
 he lies 
 Beyond the burden of all battle-cries, 
 And made half-English by his resting-place : — 
 God give him grace ! 
 
 VII 
 
 For when the century's tale is aptly told, 
 
 This much will come to light ; 
 
 We were the first in fight 
 
 And first in commerce all the wide world 
 
 through. 
 Witness the deeds we do ! 
 The quick resolves that prove our better 
 
 worth, 
 When foes wax over-bold ;
 
 14 A SONG OF THE SEA 
 
 And all the trystes that evermore we keep 
 
 With those our fierce adherents on the deep: — 
 
 The north-wind and the east, the fearful twain 
 
 Who strip the woods in winter, and make mirth 
 
 On many a ravished plain, — 
 
 The Boreal brothers who are quick to bear 
 
 Earth's message through the air, 
 
 And mix their meanings with the billows' roar 
 
 In some terrific tunc, 
 
 Well known on every surf-tormented shore, — 
 
 As if the judgment-day were come too soon, 
 
 And Hell were loosened on the ocean-tracks, 
 
 And all the waves had riders on their backs ! 
 
 VIII 
 
 We love the sea, — the loud, the leaping sea, — 
 The rush and roar of waters, — the thick 
 
 foam, — 
 The sea-bird's sudden cry, —
 
 ODE FOR IMPERIAL FEDERATION 1 5 
 
 The gale that bends the lithe and towering 
 masts 
 
 Of good ships bounding home, 
 
 That spread to the great sky 
 
 Exultant flags unmatched in their degree ! 
 
 And 'tis a joy that lasts, 
 
 A joy that thrills the Briton to the soul 
 
 Who knows the nearest goal 
 
 To all he asks of fortune and of fame, 
 
 From dusk to dawn and dawn to sunset- 
 flame. 
 
 He knows that he is free, 
 
 With all the freedom of the waves and winds 
 
 That have the storm in fee ; 
 
 And evermore he seeks what there he finds: — 
 
 A hope, a joy, a certainty of strength, 
 
 Beyond the Empire's length, 
 
 And, year by year, he pleads for Federation 
 
 With such acclaim as fits a jubilation !
 
 1 6 A SONG OF THE SEA 
 
 IX 
 Wc were the Ocean's children from the first ; 
 We toyed with fate, we dallied with the shocks 
 Of wrack and ravin ; and, unscathed thereby, 
 We dared calamity to do its worst. 
 We taught our foes to die ! 
 We set our mark on sea-confronting rocks, 
 To urge our right of way ; and, — stroke by 
 
 stroke, — 
 We scoured the waters clean of pirate-folk ; 
 And, fired with faith in all that we had vowed, 
 We brought the scourge of slavery to an end. 
 We made the wind our comrade and our 
 
 friend, 
 And called to it aloud, — 
 And where it led, we followed and were 
 
 proud, — 
 The wind that roars its octave to the thunder, 
 When danger has the darkness in its grip : —
 
 ODE FOR IMPERIAL FEDERATION lj 
 
 The wind that gives the key-note to the storm, 
 And moulds the monstrous form 
 Of many a weltering wave with hungering lip, 
 When, — with a word of warning, — or of 
 
 wonder, — 
 The sea's great voice intones 
 Its monody of madness and of moans. 
 
 x 
 
 And this our glory still :— to bear the palm 
 In all true enterprise, 
 And everywhere, in tempest and in calm, 
 To front the future with unfearing eyes, 
 And sway the seas where our advancement lies, 
 With Freedom's flag uplifted, and unfurled ; 
 And this our rallying-cry, whate'cr befall, 
 Good-will to men, and peace throughout the 
 
 world, 
 Hut England,— England,— England over all !
 
 MY LADY OF DREAMS 
 
 I 
 Have you met in the glade, 
 When the breezes are laid, 
 The delight of my soul with her passionate 
 
 eyes, 
 That are large with the lures 
 Of a love that endures, — 
 As an angel's, enthroned in the scintillant skies, 
 Who has looked on the face 
 Of the Giver of Grace ? 
 
 II 
 Have you seen her at night, 
 When the moon 's at the height
 
 MY LADY OF DREAMS 1 9 
 
 Of its glory and glamour approved of the 
 
 stars, — 
 Have you seen her untwist, 
 Like a maiden of mist, 
 Or a newly-descended effulgence of Mars, 
 All her tresses divine 
 That are Summer's, — and mine ? 
 
 in 
 
 She 's a sylph of the air 
 
 With her mantle of hair 
 
 That's alit with the rays of the refluent sun ; 
 
 And the hills and the plains 
 
 Of her magic domains 
 
 Are the haunts of the fairies when daylight is 
 
 done, 
 And the birthplace of words 
 That are winged as birds !
 
 20 MY LADY OF DREAMS 
 
 IV 
 
 It is she, — it is she, 
 
 Who has waited for me 
 
 In the woods and the wilds of the valleys of 
 
 sleep ; 
 It is she who has brought, 
 By the pulsings of thought, 
 All the songs that I love, all the records I 
 
 keep, — 
 All the hopes and the fears 
 That are hallowed by tears. 
 
 v 
 And I know in my heart, 
 When I tremble and start 
 At the sob of the wind, at the sigh of the 
 
 breeze, 
 That the lady I sing 
 Is the boast of the spring,
 
 MY LADY OF DREAMS 21 
 
 And the pride of the meadows out there by 
 
 the trees, 
 And the bearer of news 
 From the grass and the dews. 
 
 VI 
 
 I shall revel ere long, 
 
 In a joy that is strong 
 
 With the strength of a sorrow unseated at last; 
 
 For the whisper, mcseems, 
 
 Of my Lady of Dreams 
 
 Is a dearer reward than a trumpeter's blast, 
 
 That announces a name 
 
 In the tourneys of Fame. 
 
 VII 
 She is known unto men, 
 On the moor, in the glen,
 
 2 2 MY LADY OF DREAMS 
 
 As a melody 's known that is true to the core ; 
 
 She 's acclaimed in the bowers 
 
 As the queen of the flowers ; 
 
 And there 's nothing that lives on the sea or 
 
 the shore 
 That is hid from her gaze 
 In the nights and the days. 
 
 VIII 
 
 She is one of the choir 
 
 Of the daughters of fire, 
 
 And the touch of her hand is a token of truth ; 
 
 And her presence is sweet, 
 
 From the face to the feet, 
 
 With the fervour of love and the joyance of 
 
 youth, 
 And the sense of a trust 
 That out-liveth the dust.
 
 MY LADY OF DREAMS 23 
 
 IX 
 
 When I meet her alone, 
 
 And the day 's overthrown, 
 
 And the gloaming comes on, like the silence 
 
 itself, 
 I shall feel it is true, 
 As she glides into view, 
 
 That her sire was a vision, — her mother an elf 
 Whom the poets have seen 
 In the gardens terrene. 
 
 X 
 
 In the whispered lament 
 
 Of a breeze that is spent, 
 
 In the murmur thereof I shall know she is 
 
 nigh ; 
 In the hush of the snows, 
 In the blush of thu rose,
 
 24 MY LADY OF DREAMS 
 
 In the droop of the lily that 's weighed with 
 
 a sigh, 
 I shall trace her appeal 
 In the rapture I feel. 
 
 XI 
 
 I shall guess what is said 
 
 Of the quick and the dead ; 
 
 I shall know what is best to enshrine or 
 
 destroy ; 
 And the lore of the lute, 
 And the taste of the fruit 
 That the seasons have touched with the 
 
 tremors of joy, 
 Will be mine to possess, 
 In her sainted caress. 
 
 XII 
 
 For my Lady is wise 
 With a wisdom that flies
 
 MY LADY OF DREAMS 25 
 
 From the sun to the star, from the star to the 
 
 flower ; 
 And she floats to my arms, 
 In her mystical charms, 
 With the wealth of the wonder of song for a 
 
 dower, — 
 Yet all that she saith 
 Is revealed in a breath !
 
 SHELLEY'S MONUMENT AT VIA 
 REGGIO 
 
 I 
 The sea that claimed our Shelley holds him 
 not, 
 And Via Reggio pleads for him in vain ; 
 The barque that foundered on a foreign 
 main 
 Is curst of all good men, and nigh forgot. 
 But he who sailed therein has made his lot 
 The Muse's glory, and his country's gain. 
 
 II. 
 We cannot spare our poet for the south, 
 Or for the sea that slew him long ago ;
 
 SHELLEY S MONUMENT AT VIA REGGIO 2 J 
 
 His youth was reared in England, as we 
 know, 
 
 And Freedom sated all his singing-drouth, 
 And called him hers, and kissed him on the 
 
 mouth, 
 And made him wise with all the winds that 
 
 blow. 
 
 Ill 
 
 If Time require a monument for thee, 
 We'll have a nobler one than alien hands 
 Can build thee, Shelley ! on Italian sands ; 
 And if thy face must front a foaming sea, 
 We have our share of ocean that is free, 
 And here we'll shrine thee as thy fame 
 demands. 
 
 IV 
 Not Rome thy resting-place from year to year, 
 Not that Italia where thy days were spent,
 
 28 siielley's monument at via reggio 
 
 To our remorse, and thine own detriment. 
 Thou hast thy home with us in England here, 
 And not out there, where Fortune was austere, 
 
 And burnt the form that malice never bent. 
 
 v 
 
 'Twas Byron wept for thee, when from the 
 
 pyre 
 
 Trelawny tore the heart that beat in tune 
 
 With all the hearts of men in mystic rune. 
 
 For hellish flames could not consume the 
 
 lyre 
 That throbbed with joy for every soul's desire, 
 And filled the earth with songs from June 
 to June. 
 
 VI 
 Yes, Byron wept ; and we, — unfit to weep 
 Unless for mere self-pity, — lo ! we turn
 
 SHELLEY'S MONUMENT AT VIA REGGIO 29 
 
 With lips apart, and eyes that sea-ward 
 yearn, 
 To greet yon Tuscans while their tryste they 
 
 keep 
 With our dead singer, wakened out of sleep 
 To teach the creeds the world is slow to 
 learn. 
 
 VII 
 
 God's truth ! Is 't well ? Whose words were 
 
 those he flung 
 
 From his proud lips, accordant with the roll 
 
 Of star with star, and soul with human 
 
 soul ? 
 
 Whose words? Our own, — our England's 
 
 golden tongue, 
 Long centuries old, and yet divinely young 
 As this day's dawn that shines from pole 
 to pole !
 
 30 SHELLEY S MONUMENT AT VIA REGGIO 
 
 VIII 
 
 Tis we, — not they, — who call thee from the 
 past, 
 'Tis we invoke, from realms where none 
 
 are drowned, 
 Thy presence, Shelley! wronged on 
 English ground, 
 But righted now, — as all men are at last, — 
 And safe beyond opprobrium's bitter blast ; 
 For thou art crowned as Shakespeare's self 
 is crowned !
 
 THE PRINCE'S RETURN FROM 
 RUSSIA 
 
 December 6, 1894 
 
 1 
 What news to-day ? 
 What soundings of the sea ? 
 What message of the morning to the Land 
 That's circled round about with frontier-sand? 
 What note of war in what unwonted key 
 To bid the world be armed for such affray 
 As dyes with valiant blood the salt sea-foam ? 
 lias some great voice imperial in the North 
 Vouchsafed a word supreme, 
 With Progress as the outcome of its theme ?
 
 32 THE PRINCE'S RETURN FROM RUSSIA 
 
 Or what's the deed that calls our plaudits 
 
 forth ?— 
 Our English Prince comes home ! 
 
 II 
 He brings us greetings from an alien shore 
 That 's loud with ocean's unsubmissive roar, 
 And leapings of wild waves, 
 O'er which the storm-wind raves. 
 He tells us not of battles lost or won, 
 Or sailors' wandering graves, 
 Or deeds of danger, darkly to be done 
 Beneath an outraged, unapproving sun. 
 He brings us friendly vows from foreign lips, 
 And rumours of concessions due to us 
 For our dear Land's renown ! 
 And who shall say that, home-returning thus, 
 He comes not back more welcome to us all 
 Than if he brought us news of routed ships,
 
 THE PRINCE S RETURN FROM RUSSIA $$ 
 
 And foemen trampled down, 
 
 In some beleaguered town, 
 
 To sate a tyrant's unremitting thrall ? 
 
 Ill 
 All praise to him who sheathes his sword in 
 
 trust 
 Of what the years may teach without a crime! 
 Tis much to wound a foe ; 
 Tis more to save him and to win a friend, 
 This side the surging of the seas of Time, 
 Whose wherewithal shall no man truly know 
 Till power and pomp and pride are laid in 
 
 dust ; 
 
 For he alone is great who dares be just ! 
 
 lie conquers well who conquers with a word ; 
 
 And ere the spring comes round 
 
 A Russian name for Freedom may be found ! 
 
 Promise of dawn is only day deferred, 
 c
 
 34 the prince's RETURN FROM RUSSIA 
 
 And Truth and Sunrise are of kindred fire 
 To wake the wonders ofthe world's desire, 
 And unto him the loveliest wreath belongs 
 Who bids dissensions cease, 
 And vaunts no battle-star, — 
 For he is rich indeed who's poor in wrongs : — 
 He is a victor who out-victors war 
 And plants his banner on the heights of 
 Peace !
 
 THE LARK'S SONG IN APRIL 
 
 I 
 
 ECHOING Voice that o'er the woodlands 
 
 wide, 
 Dost warble, at spring-tide, 
 Of hope and love that hold the world in sway, 
 What news dost bring to-day 
 Of those fair fields of dawn where light is 
 
 sanctified ? 
 
 II 
 From out the roseate cloud, athwart the blue, 
 
 1 hear thee sound anew 
 
 That song of thine, a-shimmcring down the 
 sky;
 
 36 THE LARK'S SONG IN APRIL 
 
 And daisies, touched thereby, 
 Look up to thee in tears which men mistake 
 for dew. 
 
 in 
 There is no bird a-field, or in the air, 
 Which can with thee compare 
 When to thy lord, the sun, thou dost impart 
 In faithfulness of heart, 
 
 The thanks of mead and mere for all the joys 
 they share. 
 
 IV 
 
 Thou art indeed the spokesman of the flowers, 
 Which have no singing-powers, 
 And with their perfume all thy blood's a-stir ; 
 And thou dost mix with myrrh 
 The maddening strains that fall from those 
 thy skyward bowers.
 
 THE LARKS SONG IN APRIL 2)7 
 
 V 
 There's no such trill as thine, or east or 
 
 west, 
 And no such wild unrest ; 
 And he were chief of bards who'd learn from 
 
 thee, 
 That hast the master-key, 
 The song of earth's goodwill that's wafted 
 
 from a nest. 
 
 VI 
 
 I see thee clip the air, and rush and reel, 
 As if excess of zeal 
 
 Had giddied thee in thy chromatic joys ; 
 And overhead dost poise 
 With outstretched wings of love that bless 
 while they appeal.
 
 38 THE LARK'S SONG IN APRIL 
 
 VII 
 
 'Tis true that summer's near us as thou say'st, 
 With all its fruits to taste, 
 And lilies, too, and clambering eglantine, 
 And roses red as wine, 
 
 And flowers that maidens wear, with love- 
 knots interlaced. 
 
 VIII 
 
 'Tis true that love's the theme of all the notes 
 
 That come from sylvan throats, 
 
 And that thy friends, the linnet and the thrush, 
 
 Have met, at evening-blush, 
 
 To hail thee bard of morn by all their dulcet 
 
 votes. 
 
 IX 
 What ! — back within the cloud ? — or where 
 
 art thou, 
 That all quiescent now
 
 THE LARK'S SONG IN APRIL 39 
 
 Dost seem to pause awhile in thine emprize ? 
 Hast bounded through the skies ? 
 Or dost but hide thee there, to con some 
 golden vow ? 
 
 x 
 
 Thy ways are not as ours, thou joyous bird ! 
 Thou quick incarnate Word ! 
 And all in vain I watch thee in thy flight ; 
 Nor can I guess aright 
 
 What thoughts of sweet content within thy 
 heart are stirred. 
 
 XI 
 
 So far away thy wings have wafted thee 
 
 O'er yon cerulean sea, 
 
 That much I fear to lose thee, little one,
 
 4-0 THE LARKS SONG IN APRIL 
 
 Ere yet thy song be done, — 
 And this were gain to Heaven, but loss to 
 mine and me. 
 
 XII 
 
 Ah, — thou'rt in sight once more, thou heart's 
 
 desire ! 
 Thou feathery floating fire ! 
 And round and round dost spin and wilt not 
 
 cease ; 
 For flight to thee is peace, 
 And song's a kind of rage that goads thee to 
 
 aspire. 
 
 XIII 
 
 Thou hast within thy throat a peal of bells, 
 Dear dainty farc-thee-wells, 
 And like a flame dost leap from cloud to 
 cloud : —
 
 THE LARK'S SONG IN APRIL 4 1 
 
 Is't this that makes thee proud ? 
 Or is't that nest of thine deep-hidden in the 
 dells ? 
 
 XIV 
 
 VVhate'er thy meaning be, or vaunt or prayer, 
 I know thy home is there ; 
 And when I hear thee trill, as now thou dost, 
 I take the world on trust, 
 And with the world thyself, thou foeman of 
 despair !
 
 LINES TO A DEAD BARD 
 
 i 
 Living, but dead, — as some neglected weed 
 That's flung aside, forgotten by the spring, — 
 Who cares of thee to sing 
 That, with the foetor of polluted breath, 
 And out-come of foul seed, 
 Hast shamed the sweetness of our English 
 
 bowers ? 
 Poets who love the flowers 
 Love not thy presence there, in life or death ; 
 And birds in haste depart, 
 And all good things avoid thee like a curse ! 
 For Nature loathes thee; and 'tis past the skill 
 Of drugs to cure thee of thy venom'd ill,
 
 LINES TO A DEAD BARD 43 
 
 And past the power of prosody or verse 
 To say how vile thou art ! 
 
 II 
 Poet no more ! — thy place is with the dead ; 
 The quick reject thee as a thing unclean, — 
 A scare-crow of the Muses, — a swoll'n head 
 Mouthing it knows not what, in words ob- 
 scene ! 
 Poets have heart and feeling, — thou hast none; 
 But, in their stead, convulsion and a shriek 
 That's meant for fervour, when thine accents 
 
 run 
 From that dazed brain of thine that's grown 
 
 so weak. 
 Go, tell the world that Byron was no bard, 
 And thou a Shelley — in thine own regard ! 
 Jabber of fame, and squeak of what will 
 come
 
 44 LINES TO A DEAD BARD 
 
 When thy shrill voice in these confines is 
 
 dumb, — 
 And bid all men be brothers, — in despair ! 
 Tell them that truth's a lie, and faith a snare, 
 And hope a word for children, — or for fools : 
 Bid them denounce the Christ as thou hast 
 
 done, 
 And ban religion from the public schools, 
 With only pedant-rules 
 To serve as guide in lands beyond the sun. 
 Aye ! — tell them God's a myth, and Heaven 
 
 a dream, — 
 But thou thyself a something that exists 
 With peepy eyes and palsy-stricken wrists 
 To mark the measure of thy rhythmic 
 
 scream ! 
 Tell them all this and more, — for more's 
 
 behind 
 Which by-and-by the world will call to mind, —
 
 LINES TO A DEAD BARD 45 
 
 And, when 'tis uttered, say that "one 
 
 unknown " 
 Has done thee justice on thy puny throne ! 
 
 Ill 
 
 Thou, — king of bards ? T/iou, — wielder of a 
 
 pen 
 That sways the nations ? May God help us 
 
 then! 
 If song were gin, a man might turn to thee 
 To test its strength, and help thee find the 
 
 key 
 That opes that cupboard where thy Demon 
 
 dwells, — 
 The fiend of drink which goads while it repels, 
 And gives thee semblance of poetic fire 
 Which is not Heaven's indeed, but lowest 
 
 Hell's, 
 And fills thy veins with lustful base desire
 
 46 LINES TO A DEAD BARD 
 
 And makes us blush to own that, for a 
 
 time, 
 We heeded thee and thy poor gift of rhyme. 
 
 IV 
 Drink, bard of bottles ! Bard of kisses caught 
 From some mean drab of verse whose name 
 
 is naught ! 
 Aye, drink thy fill, — and, drinking, make it 
 
 plain 
 That thy Silenus-strain 
 Is meant for mischief now as heretofore ! 
 Who deemed his voice a lion's by its roar ? — 
 Though few could hear it, — fifty times belied 
 And laughed at, too, through all the country- 
 side, — 
 And who believed, a-tip-toe at the news, 
 That he alone was " master " of the Muse ?
 
 LINES TO A DEAD BARD 47 
 
 V 
 Fie, man, for shame ! We have our Byron 
 
 yet, 
 And Keats, and Shelley, and the golden 
 
 throng 
 Of those sweet singers who to fame belong, 
 And whom the world is powerless to forget. 
 If thou could'st sing as these it would be well ; 
 If thou could'st soar as high, and look on 
 
 things 
 As they can look, with sunlight on their 
 
 wings, — 
 Nor I nor those who spurn thee would rebel 
 Against thy dictum: — But thy reign is o'er, — 
 If reign it was, — and half thy lyric store 
 Is proved ill-gotten ; part of ancient date 
 And part usurped, or plagiarised of late 
 From better books than thou can'st write 
 withal !
 
 48 LINES TO A DEAD BARD 
 
 O shamed and shameless, whom the Furies 
 
 call, 
 But not the Muses ! — O thou unbesought 
 Of cleanly folk and scholars pure of thought ! 
 Vent, if thou wilt, thy rancour and thy rage 
 Because neglect has claimed thee for its own, 
 But cease to vex the age 
 With all that yelping, — and that lack of 
 
 tone, — 
 Which prove thee but a false pretender still. 
 Gnaw thy remorse as dogs may gnaw a bone, 
 But haunt no more Apollo's sacred hill ; 
 The sun-god knows thee for a vagrant there, 
 And spurns thee forth as poison to the air !
 
 MAN THE FLEET 
 
 i 
 Hark ! a voice that from afar 
 Calls from fort and harbour-bar, 
 
 Man the Fleet ! 
 Loud and long and clear it rings, 
 As when some one boldly sings, 
 Fired with faith in noble things, — 
 
 Man the Fleet ! 
 
 II 
 Deaf arc those who cannot hear 
 England's cry from year to year, 
 
 Man the Fleet ! 
 Blind arc they who will not sec
 
 5<D MAN THE FLEET 
 
 Why the Fates have kept us free — 
 Why we're strong as men should be. 
 Man the Fleet ! 
 
 Ill 
 
 This the warning — this the shout — 
 Born of truths we cannot doubt, 
 
 Man the Fleet ! 
 Keep the country's coast secure, 
 Launch the word that's loud and sure ; 
 Keep the standard proud and pure ! 
 
 Man the Fleet ! 
 
 IV 
 When our Nelson faced the foam 
 All his ships were glory's home. 
 Man the Fleet ! 
 England hears his spirit call 
 O'er the wide and watery wall ;
 
 MAN THE FLEET 5 1 
 
 " Each for each, and God for all ! " 
 
 Man the Fleet ! 
 
 v 
 Nelson's name is one with fame, 
 Sweet as song, and fair as flame. 
 
 Man the Fleet ! 
 When he lived he waved on high 
 England's flag to sea and sky ; 
 Now — though dead — he cannot die ! 
 
 Man the Fleet ! 
 
 VI 
 
 His the frown that scared the foe, 
 His the sword that laid them low, 
 
 Man the Fleet ! 
 His the glance that in the past 
 Saw, when skies were overcast, 
 England's star supreme at last ! 
 
 Man the Fleet !
 
 52 MAN THE FLEET 
 
 VII 
 Red, and white, and blue as dawn 
 Gleams the flag we doat upon. 
 
 Man the Fleet ! 
 And the sun, that's daily crowned 
 King of all the ocean round, 
 Loves our good ships where they bound ; 
 
 Man the Fleet ! 
 
 VIII 
 
 None shall daunt us, east or west ; 
 North or south shall none molest ! 
 
 Man the Fleet ! 
 Give the lie to those who fear ! 
 Voice the cry and make it clear — 
 Make it plain — that all may hear ; 
 
 Man the Fleet !
 
 THE FALLS OF FOYERS 
 
 A Protest against their Threatened 
 Destruction 
 
 i 
 OUT of the North a rumour, big with shame, 
 Has reached us here in England, undenied 
 By Scotia's voice of pride, 
 Which never yet has failed us in the field, — 
 A rumour fraught with outrage, ill-concealed, 
 That burns, as with a flame, 
 The sense we have of justice and of truth. 
 For soon a hand audacious and uncouth 
 Will mar the might of Nature in the glen 
 That's dear as fam c itself to all true men, —
 
 54 THE FALLS OF FOYERS 
 
 An upland-place of beauty, — a delight, 
 
 A power, a pomp, a wonder, — a desire 
 
 That knows the Morning's fire, 
 
 And Sunset's glow and glamour on the height. 
 
 n 
 And whose the fiat, whose the fell command 
 That makes a mock of history and of song, 
 And, all the summer, all the winter long, 
 Would silence Foyers ? and rob the lovely 
 
 land 
 Of God's decree of glory ? Curst be they 
 Who dare do this and live ! 
 The world has much to take, and much to 
 
 give, 
 And much to cast away ; 
 But not the Falls of Foyers, the great Falls, 
 With their time-honoured sway,
 
 THE FALLS OF FOYERS 55 
 
 And their triumphant calls 
 
 To cloud and rock, and woodland wet with 
 
 spray ! 
 
 Ill 
 O Goths and Vandals ! Ye who'd weigh for 
 
 gold 
 The rights of men, the joys of young and old ! 
 Would ye enforce a claim to every sod 
 That fills the landscape ? every bird that 
 
 sings ? 
 And every flower that lifts its face to God ? 
 The Falls are rich in raiment of sweet grass, 
 And fern and moss and well-beloved things 
 That droop not, neither pass, — 
 Heather and thyme and foxglove fair to see, 
 And broom and rowan-tree 
 That cling to earth as lichens to old walls ! 
 And ye would ravish these, and stop the Falls 
 And make a desert of the forest free ?
 
 56 THE FALLS OF FOYERS 
 
 IV 
 
 Forbid it, Scotland ! From the glens and 
 
 moors, 
 From towns and cities, from the hills and 
 
 plains, 
 Lift up your voice to spurn such sordid gains ! 
 Say that your pride endures, — 
 Say that the seasons pass, but not your rights, 
 And not your portion in the days and nights, 
 And not the memory of your battle-shocks, 
 And not the vigils that your mountains keep 
 When moon and stars invest the purpling sky. 
 Say that the Falls are God's, who bade them 
 
 leap 
 From those reverberate rocks, — 
 A dower divine which traders shall not buy !
 
 SEA VOICES 
 
 I 
 
 Darkness and danger on the stormy deep ! 
 The wandering waters, in their ceaseless 
 
 sweep, 
 Half swamp the world, and wait no judgment 
 
 day ; 
 And to the wild nor'easter that she loves 
 The ocean bares her breast, 
 And flings aloft great whiffs of sudden spray, 
 Like myriads of white doves ; 
 And, zenith-high, a jagg'd three-quarter moon 
 Drifts slowly towards her haven in the west, 
 Fainting for fear, lest dawn should come too 
 
 soon.
 
 58 SEA VOICES 
 
 II 
 How grand the scene ? How weirdly through 
 
 the night 
 The pallid orb leans outward from the clouds, 
 As if she heard the tempest in its flight, 
 Or saw the wreckages of years gone by, 
 Or ghosts in bursting shrouds 
 Come back with maniac-cry 
 To claim their share of plunder 'neath the sky! 
 Sees she the things that are ? 
 The lifted hand of murder ? — the torn sail 
 Of some crew-cursing ship that down the gale 
 Seeks jeopardy afar ? 
 An idyl of sea-sorrow in a cave 
 Whose floors are sanded gold, — 
 Whose inmates are two lovers from a wreck ? 
 Or knows she of adventures o'er the wave 
 With England's name for watch-word, as of 
 
 old,
 
 SEA VOICES 59 
 
 On some great quarter-deck 
 
 Whose aureole-flag is beauteous to behold ? 
 
 in 
 With mighty pinions strong 
 The wet wind scuds along 
 To overtake the ships that bear home-news, 
 Ere yet the swift sea-mews 
 Have shrilled their boisterous matins to the 
 
 storm, — 
 The while, with bulk enorme, 
 The snow-capped billows leap towards the 
 
 sun, 
 Content when day's begun ; 
 And, far and near, the winds and waves 
 
 combine 
 To sing that chant divine 
 Which has for bass the thunder, and for lilt
 
 60 SEA VOICES 
 
 The rain-drops that are spilt 
 
 Ere yet the rainbow-ridge has ceased to shine. 
 
 IV 
 Voices ascend for ever in all tones : — 
 Anger and joy and sorrow and deep awe, 
 And misery merged in moans 
 That have their place in nature's runic law, — 
 Voices that speak of menace and of mirth, 
 And thoughts unknown to earth ; 
 For who shall sift the secrets of the waves, 
 Or find the clue to countless sailors' graves, 
 Or bid the blustering Boreas cease to be ? 
 Our land's in league with all the winds that 
 
 blow ; 
 And none shall count his gains, or friend or 
 
 foe, 
 Till he's at one with us in his degree ; 
 And none can read the riddle of the years
 
 SEA VOICES 6 1 
 
 Till he and his compeers 
 
 Have heard throughout our annals, loud and 
 
 long,— 
 Like some imperial song, — 
 The wonders and the thunders of the sea.
 
 THE QUELETZU 
 
 " Now the first bird that sang on earth was the Queletzfi." 
 — Mexican Mythology. 
 
 I 
 
 Up in the air, 
 
 Like a spirit in prayer, 
 
 With the wings of a dove, and the heart of a 
 rose, 
 
 And a bosom as white as the Zaraby snows, 
 
 When the hurricane blows ! 
 
 II 
 
 In the light of the day, 
 
 Like a soul on its way 
 
 To the gardens of God, it was loosed from 
 
 the earth ;
 
 THE QUELETZtJ 6$ 
 
 And the song that it sang was a paean of 
 
 mirth 
 For the raptures of birth. 
 
 in 
 
 The song that it sang 
 
 Like an echo out-rane 
 
 From the cloud to the copse, and the copse 
 
 to the cloud ; 
 And the hills and the valleys responded 
 
 aloud, — 
 And the rivers were proud. 
 
 IV 
 If you think of the rush 
 Of the wind, and the flush 
 Of a morning of May when the sun is in 
 
 view.
 
 64 THE QUELETZfr 
 
 You will know what is meant by the flight 
 
 from the dew 
 Of the first Quel6tzu. 
 
 v 
 If you think of these things 
 You will dote on the wings 
 Of the wonderful bird in its upward career ; 
 And the legends thereof will be sweeter to 
 
 hear 
 Than the songs of a seer. 
 
 VI 
 
 You will know what is meant 
 By the pinioned ascent 
 Of an angel of grace when its mission is done, 
 And the knowledge of this will be second to 
 
 none 
 Which the ages have spun.
 
 THE QUELETZtl 65 
 
 VII 
 
 For the lark in its nest 
 
 Is a minstrel at best, 
 And the music it makes is the mirth of a 
 
 kiss 
 That is flung to the skies in a frenzy of bliss 
 On the Morning's abyss. 
 
 VIII 
 
 And the nightingale's note 
 Is a sob from its throat, 
 
 And the gurgle thereof is a rapture of pain ; 
 
 For the roses are sad,— and the lilies com- 
 plain, — 
 
 When the silence is slain. 
 
 IX 
 All the larks in the world 
 With their feathers unfurled,
 
 66 THE QUELETZt) 
 
 And the nightingales, too, in their tender 
 
 despair, — 
 All the birds that we know have a sorrow to 
 
 share 
 With the natives of air. 
 
 x 
 
 But the first Oueletzu 
 When it sprang to the blue, 
 
 Had the heart of a rose and the wings of a 
 dove; 
 
 And the song that it sang to the angels above 
 
 Was the music of Love !
 
 THE DEAD TSAR 
 
 I 
 
 Dead the great Tsar, — his hands upon his 
 breast, 
 
 His face unruffled 'mid a world's alarms, 
 And all his hopes and yearnings laid to rest, 
 
 And all his prowess, all his latent harms ; 
 
 For nevermore, when trumpets call to arms, 
 Shall this man send his legions east or west. 
 
 II 
 lie had the heart of one, the strength often ; 
 
 And with a patriot-zeal he sought to weld 
 Conflicting interests, — and to mend again 
 
 The Code Imperial. For his fathers held
 
 68 THE DEAD TSAR 
 
 A strange dark place in history, which 
 impelled 
 To graver issues than were shown to men. 
 
 Ill 
 
 He probed the future ; and, in his estate, 
 He saw the phantom of the Might-Have- 
 Been. 
 When he but spoke 'twas as the word of Fate ; 
 And on his forehead was the lightning- 
 sheen 
 Of that great crown of his which few have 
 seen 
 Though all have guessed its glamour and its 
 weight. 
 
 IV 
 
 If ye would judge him rightly, say of him, 
 He lived and loved and suffered and was 
 brave !
 
 THE DEAD TSAR 69 
 
 A poisoner's hand had touched his goblet's 
 brim, 
 A traitor's knife had marked him for the 
 
 grave ; 
 But he was one whom Fear could not 
 deprave, 
 And Faith upheld him when his hopes grew 
 dim. 
 
 v 
 The mountain sees the sun before the plain ; 
 
 But is it happier than the groves below ? 
 Arc kings contented with a threatened reign ? 
 Do peaks of pride suffice them, and the 
 
 snow 
 Of upland winters,— when the vale's a-glow 
 With fruits and flowers, and fields of harvest 
 grain ?
 
 JO THE DEAD TSAR 
 
 VI 
 
 His very state oppressed him like a doom ; 
 His sceptre weighed him down ; and, day 
 and night, 
 He longed for that full freedom of the tomb 
 Which all attain at last beyond the blight 
 Of taunt and treason ; and beyond the 
 spite 
 That waits on Caesars when their laurels 
 bloom. 
 
 VII 
 
 A blameless life was his ; and this will stand 
 As his true record in the years to come. 
 
 He feared his God, — he loved his native land ; 
 He over-ruled intriguers in the sum 
 Of all his vast designs ; and he was dumb 
 
 When miscreants urged him to some fell 
 command.
 
 THE DEAD TSAR 7 I 
 
 VIII 
 He would not loose his bloodhounds on the 
 track 
 Of blue-eyed Peace, — his comrade when a 
 boy. 
 He loved her ere he sought the strain and 
 wrack 
 Of fierce and fond ambition, and the toy 
 Which men call Fame with all its base 
 alloy 
 That some, — who know it well, — are proud to 
 lack. 
 
 IX 
 
 We owe him much for what he left undone, — 
 For waste and want and noisome battle- 
 deeds 
 
 Not wrought by him beneath his Russian sun. 
 For he had vowed to sow with better seeds
 
 72 THE DEAD TSAR 
 
 His fair domains, and foster grander needs 
 Than those foreshadowed ere his race was 
 run. 
 
 X 
 
 A race of glory ! — yet, beyond compare, 
 
 A term of torture for a soul so just 
 That he could weep for others, — and could 
 spare 
 The wretch who wronged him by a broken 
 
 trust, — 
 And half forgive the felon's dagger-thrust 
 If one he loved besought him with a prayer. 
 
 XI 
 
 And Love was near him till his latest breath, 
 And therewithal the comfort and the pride 
 Of that sweet hope which sprang from 
 Nazareth ;
 
 THE DEAD TSAR 73 
 
 And wan with tears, low-kneeling at his side, 
 The future Caesar kissed a weeping bride 
 And took his charter from the lips of Death. 
 
 XII 
 
 Solemn the scene ! — and tender and sublime 
 That last leave-taking, when the requiem- 
 bells 
 Rang out, on All Saints' Day, the dolorous 
 chime 
 That spoke of anguish mixed with fond 
 
 farewells ; 
 And, far and near, in towns and citadels, 
 The tocsin tolling like the wail of Time !
 
 A LOVE SONG 
 
 i 
 What says the lark to the lea 
 When it leaps to the sun, and is free 
 With the freedom the poets acclaim 
 When they bow to the pomp of a name ? 
 What say the eyes of the maid 
 To the lover whose lips are afraid ? 
 // is Love that endureth for ever ! 
 
 II 
 What says the breeze in its mirth 
 When it wakes to the wonders of earth ? 
 What says the sea with its roar, 
 To the moon that is thrilled to the core,
 
 A LOVE SONG 75 
 
 When the hurricane's having its way, 
 And the billows are bounding in spray ? 
 It is Love that endureth for ever ! 
 
 Ill 
 What says the poppy, unfurled, 
 To the sun that is king of the world ? 
 What says the lily so white 
 To the rose that is red with delight, 
 When the lady I love is at hand, 
 And the summer is sweet in the land ? 
 // is Love tliat endureth for ever !
 
 THE DEATH-DAY OF TENNYSON 
 
 I 
 The years have left their languors on his 
 tomb, 
 And day and night have watched him one 
 by one 
 As two great Angels may, who know the 
 doom 
 Of all things made of flesh this side the 
 
 sun ; 
 But he has gone where earthly pangs are 
 done, 
 And no man knows the wherefore of the 
 
 strife — 
 For Death has many names, and one is Life.
 
 THE DEATH-DAY OF TENNYSON JJ 
 
 II 
 He could not perish ! He but sank from 
 sight, 
 As sinks the sun, effulgent in its sphere, 
 Which knows its heir-ship to the morning's 
 light. 
 He died to live, — the Muse acclaims him 
 
 here : 
 And he has gifts for all who hold him 
 dear ; 
 A song, an ode, a chant of quickening fire, 
 And matchless idyls lit with Love's desire. 
 
 Ill 
 There's not a bird can sing an April song 
 Without some apt remembrance of his 
 verse, 
 Which one may hearken to a whole day 
 long :—
 
 78 THE DEATH-DAY OF TENNYSON 
 
 A snatch of sorrow, sweet and sound and 
 terse, 
 
 Or thrills of joy that haply will immerse 
 The eyes with tender tears in some lone vale — 
 For he was dowered as is the nightingale. 
 
 IV 
 He had his place in great Apollo's choir, 
 
 And he could strike a note that was sublime 
 With all the witchery of a tuneful lyre, 
 
 And all the cadence of a classic time. 
 
 And he could put a sunset into rhyme, 
 And re-intone the lilting of the lark, 
 And fill the fields with music after dark ! 
 
 V 
 He could unfold the riddle of the hours 
 And tell us truths unknown to kings and 
 queens,
 
 THE DEATH-DAY OF TENNYSON 79 
 
 And toy with grief, and play with passion- 
 flowers, 
 And sing of Arthur's tilt-and-tourney 
 
 scenes, 
 And hear the awful silence — what it means 
 When from the circuit of the cloudless skies 
 The lidless night looks down with all its eyes. 
 
 VI 
 
 He had a wand like Merlin, — 'twas his pen, 
 And with a touch thereof he raised from 
 earth 
 New domes of thought for women and for men, 
 And magic gardens made for love and 
 
 mirth. 
 For all who knew him knew his poet-worth, 
 And how he caught the key-note of the spring 
 Because the birds had taught him how to sing.
 
 8o THE DEATH-DAY OF TENNYSON 
 
 VII 
 
 He loved our England, and in England's name 
 He drew the sword of song, and flashed it 
 high; 
 And with the trumpet of his Laureate fame 
 He made it seem a goodly thing to die 
 For God and Country, — with some battle- 
 cry 
 That should be loud with love and fraught 
 
 with fear 
 For men who doubt the truths they should 
 revere. 
 
 VIII 
 
 He loved the rose, the lily of the field, 
 The celandine, the wind-flower of the crag, 
 
 The daisy, fashioned like a little shield, 
 The gorse that decks the pathway of the 
 stag;
 
 THE DEATH-DAY OF TENNYSON 8 1 
 
 But most of all he loved the British flag, 
 And talked of it with tears of honest pride, — 
 We wrapt its folds around him when he died ! 
 
 IX 
 
 He's safe with that, — as safe as heroes are 
 Who front, for joy of some dear land's 
 renown, 
 The flush, the frenzy, and the flame of war — 
 Safe with the flag and with the laurel crown 
 Of which no leaves have yet been trampled 
 down ; 
 Is there a man, in these degenerate days, 
 Worthy to win — and wear — such deathless 
 bays ?
 
 THORNS 
 
 i 
 
 Come, little rose ! and redly undeceive 
 My soul to-day in mine extremity. 
 
 For I, of late, have learnt to disbelieve 
 
 The meekness of my maiden-paragon, 
 Who hath, as one may see, 
 
 The fairest face the sun hath looked upon. 
 
 II 
 'Twas yester-week that, for an idle word, 
 She did upbraid me, and, with sad sur- 
 mise, 
 Did seem to doubt the truths I had averred. 
 I dared too much when I did make assaye
 
 THORNS 83 
 
 To front those fearless eyes ; 
 And now I dwell apart, as night from day. 
 
 ill 
 
 There's not much hope for me if she be filled 
 With all this anger for her faithful friend. 
 
 The thoughts I crowned her with, are well- 
 nigh killed 
 
 By her disdainful smile, and her distrust. 
 Ah me ! what tears I spend, 
 
 And what vain sighs, to urge her to be just ! 
 
 IV 
 
 If she be kind to me 'tis always spring ; 
 
 If not, 'tis winter in the world of men. 
 Come, rose ! and teach me how a tender thing 
 May move a maid to pity in my case, 
 
 And I'll rejoice again 
 And wend my way to Love's abiding-place.
 
 84 THORNS 
 
 V 
 What! wilt thou wound mc too, thou little rose! 
 
 And show a thorn, and use it unabashed 
 To call to mind anew the ways of foes 
 And woman's wrath a-kin to phantasy ? 
 
 Or was't a whim that clashed 
 With something wild and unrestrained in 
 thee ? 
 
 VI 
 I like it not that roses so demure 
 
 Should wear a weapon thus in ambuscade. 
 Whate'er my failings be my faith is pure ; 
 And, moved thereby, methought a rose's flush 
 
 Might stead me with the maid 
 Who is herself a rose of sweetest blush. 
 
 VII 
 
 But I'll not choose thee as my go-between 
 To say how sad I am, and how distraught.
 
 THORNS 85 
 
 Of all the flowers of earth she is the queen 
 And would not laud thee for ungentleness. 
 
 I know what grief has taught, 
 But what despair may mean I will not guess. 
 
 VIII 
 
 I'll keep thee here in token of an hour 
 
 That comes not back, — a thing to ponder 
 on 
 
 Within the sanctum of a starlit bower, — 
 
 A thing to wet with tears for love's delight 
 When one's too woe-begone 
 
 To care for aught but anguish in the night. 
 
 IX 
 
 Be thou my heart's companion. See! I'll 
 take 
 Thy thorns from thee to press thee in the 
 leaves
 
 86 THORNS 
 
 Of some quaint missal-book for sorrow's sake. 
 It will be sweet to know, when trees are bare, 
 
 That Death, — which oft bereaves, — 
 Cannot despoil me of a flower so fair !
 
 MOUSHKA 
 
 I 
 Who is my Moushka ? It is she 
 Who makes the world so fair to me ; 
 
 And with a glance, — a radiant one, — 
 Doth sanctify each sylvan nook ; 
 Without the witchery of her look, 
 Without her love, I could not brook 
 
 The gladness of the summer sun. 
 
 II 
 Though June has thirty nights and days, 
 I need them all to sing the praise 
 
 Of her to whom my vows I bring, — 
 For she is pure as angels arc
 
 88 MOUSHKA 
 
 Who smile beyond the sunset-bar ; 
 And from her name, as from a star, 
 A wreathed light is seen to spring. 
 
 Ill 
 
 If one should meet her in the glade 
 With all her golden hair displayed, 
 
 And all a-flush, as now, with health, 
 He'd think the nymphs were come again, 
 And god Apollo, bold of reign, 
 Re-crowned for men on hill and plain 
 
 With all the pomp of Doric wealth ! 
 
 IV 
 He would not doubt that, Dian-wise, 
 She had descended from the skies 
 
 To ratify the joys of May. 
 Her true-love eyes are full of dreams, 
 Her hair is lit with morning-beams
 
 MOUSHKA 89 
 
 Whereof the world is proud, it seems ; 
 And when she laughs, 'tis holiday. 
 
 V 
 She cannot hide her gentleness, 
 The happy smile, the looks that bless, 
 
 The face that's like a flower to see, — 
 The lovely dimples in her arms, 
 The whispered words that act as charms, 
 To keep away all wanton harms 
 
 When witches haunt the uplands free. 
 
 VI 
 
 And in her glances she reveals 
 A nature new to love-appeals, 
 
 Which ne'ertheless is fond and meek. 
 She's naiad-like, and white as snows, 
 And hath the fragrance of the rose: —
 
 90 MOUSHKA 
 
 And then I muse ; — The mirror knows, — 
 But who will make the mirror speak ? 
 
 VII 
 
 To see her somewhere, all alone, 
 On rustic seat, as on a throne, 
 
 And there to ache for very bliss, — 
 To sit beside her, face to face, 
 And breathe her breath a moment's space, 
 And then to die in her embrace, — 
 
 Ah God ! how glad a thing were this ! 
 
 VIII 
 Who doubts of honour ? Moushka's here ; 
 And Moushka's eyes are brave and clear, 
 
 And all her soul is sweet with love. 
 Her voice is like a silver bell, 
 And such delights about her dwell,
 
 MOUSHKA 9 1 
 
 That fiends who frown in darkest Hell 
 Would smile to hear her spoken of. 
 
 IX 
 She hath few faults when all is told, 
 If she hath one ; and young and old 
 
 Extol her grace and say of her, — 
 She's made of sunbeams and of flowers, 
 And dews and dawns and happy hours 
 And music breathed in Eden-bowers 
 
 When angels play the dulcimer. 
 
 X 
 If there be one I pity much, — 
 And there are myriads now of such, — 
 
 It is the man who has not seen 
 My Moushka's face, when, at a word, 
 Her maiden-blood, divinely stirred,
 
 92 MOUSHKA 
 
 Makes blushing-time a hope deferred, 
 And me the suitor to a queen. 
 
 XI 
 
 She minds me of the life beyond ; 
 She sways me with a fairy's wand, 
 
 And daunts me with her eyes of blue, 
 Till all my soul's to frenzy driven ; 
 For then, — be every sin forgiven ! — 
 I know the nearest way to Heaven, 
 
 But dare not urge a claim thereto. 
 
 XII 
 
 I dare not touch her where, apart, 
 
 She sits and smiles and breaks my heart, 
 
 Or seems to break it all day long ; 
 A murmured word, — a frighted glance, —
 
 MOUSHKA 9 
 
 A look that leaps to some romance 
 
 And yet is naught but fickle chance 
 
 To do my soul a sudden wrong. 
 
 5 
 
 XIII 
 All this is true ; I know it well. 
 But there's a secret left to tell 
 
 Which I repeat for my delight, 
 In lonely hours unlookcd upon, — 
 A secret sweet as songs of dawn 
 That linnets sing when mists are gone, 
 
 And when the sun-god slays the night. 
 
 XIV 
 I were not wise would I not give 
 My claim to die, my power to live, 
 And all my worldly hopes for this
 
 94 MOUSHKA 
 
 To know my loveliest Love is mine, 
 And that on me, with looks benign, 
 She hath conferred the right divine 
 To crown her beauties with a kiss !
 
 ODES
 
 These Odes are now collected for the First Time
 
 THE ROYAL MARRIAGE ODE 
 
 Specially written for the Nuptials of 
 
 the Duke and Duchess of York 
 
 on July the 6th, 1893 
 
 1 
 Winter has gone, — 
 The world is young again ! 
 The jocund hours, careering in the train 
 Of this imperial day, will travel on 
 To hope and joy's fulfilment in the Land. 
 And hark ! the cannon, — hark ! the cannon's 
 
 roar, 
 As loud as waves that lash the rocky strand, 
 When storm-delights arc near, 
 And when the winds, exultant evermore, 
 Unfurl the glorious flag that we revere.
 
 98 THE ROYAL MARRIAGE ODE 
 
 II 
 Ring out the joy-bells on the quickening air, 
 And let allegiance wait on ecstacy ! 
 The world's in tune, to-day, with our desire, 
 And mirth and music make the morning fair, 
 And isle responds to isle, and sea to sea, 
 And all our thoughts aspire 
 To one majestic theme, and one acclaim, 
 In Love's transcendent name, 
 Which has for wreath a flame, 
 And is the rapt controller of the lyre. 
 
 Ill 
 
 It is a day of days, — 
 A day to boast of in futurity, 
 When Kings unborn, and nations yet to be, 
 Will read the record of the Land's renown, 
 And all the pomp and splendour of the 
 Crown ;
 
 THE ROYAL MARRIAGE ODE 99 
 
 A day of days, — 
 
 A day to sing of, and to mark for praise, 
 
 In his great name for whom ancestral bays 
 
 Are bound with orange-flowers ; 
 
 A day of days, — 
 
 A day in which are merged the linked powers 
 
 Of love and valour in the sunlit ways, 
 
 The lovely linked powers 
 
 Of grace and honour formed for unison, 
 
 And for the fulness of a Nation's pride : — 
 
 High-seated York and his elected Bride 
 
 Who wears, all through the year, the name of 
 
 spring, 
 A May-Day name belov'd by queen and king 
 As earth herself is worshipped by the sun. 
 
 IV 
 
 Love ! Love ! Love ! 
 
 The winds arc wild with love
 
 IOO THE ROYAL MARRIAGE ODE 
 
 The winds and waves of all the seas are mad 
 With hope that maketh glad, 
 And fires the blood with frenzies undefined, 
 That flash from mind to mind, 
 And thrill the soul that else were dark and 
 sad. 
 
 V 
 There's not a flower alive, and not a bird, 
 And not a woodland thing, 
 And not a wandering brook that is not stirred 
 By some solution of sweet euphony, — 
 As if the keynote of the golden spring 
 Were tossed from choirs above, 
 And tuned to concert-pitch to rhyme with 
 
 love ! 
 The fields a-shimmering vaguely all the morn, 
 Are proud to wave their poppies in the corn, 
 As if they, too, had banners and were free ;
 
 THE ROYAL MARRIAGE ODE IOI 
 
 The lark, alert in heaven, is loud with song 
 And trills of summer in its tuneful prime, 
 And pairing-days in England's fair domain, 
 And trysting-hours gone by, that come 
 
 again, 
 And love's delight that knows not any wrong : 
 So sweet it is to dream of sorrows slain ! 
 The very breeze, meandering o'er the thyme, 
 Doth seem to rhapsodise 
 On faith that lives, and hope that never dies, 
 As if the fields were richer for the ode 
 Of their true singer on his sunward road, 
 And soon would tempt him back from out the 
 
 blue : 
 The cowslips huddle close, as gossips do 
 That talk of bridal hours and wedding-gear, 
 Whereof the thoughts entrance 
 The souls of men and maids all through the 
 
 year.
 
 102 THE ROYAL MARRIAGE ODE 
 
 The trees themselves are touched as with 
 
 romance, 
 And every flow'ret has a look of cheer, 
 Whereof the birds take heed ; 
 And, like a moving army on the mead, 
 The miles of grass are all a-stir with life, 
 A million blades uplifted in the sun, 
 As if for joy of battles bravely won 
 In some delicious daintiness of strife ! 
 And so, in towns and cities far and near, 
 The flowers of joy, — the posies passion- 
 dear, — 
 Are worn as trophies, and, with little sighs, 
 Looked at by lovers who have guessed aright 
 The reasons of the redness of the rose, 
 And why the breeze is welcome when it blows 
 A word of wonder from that fairy shore 
 Where Love is blind no more, 
 But sees all things, and truly, with glad eyes !
 
 THE ROYAL MARRIAGE ODE IO3 
 
 VI 
 
 And now, as rings and swings, the wedding- 
 chime, — 
 
 The chime we love to hear, — 
 
 The wind will bear the news, from clime to 
 clime, 
 
 Of this great day, pre-ordered from Above 
 
 To consecrate the fame, from year to 
 year, 
 
 Of England's sea that girds us round and 
 round, — 
 
 The sun-surveying sea that, with its waves, 
 
 Invokes the Land we love, 
 
 And evermore, with more and more re- 
 bound 
 
 And mirth-commingled sound 
 Re-echoes, with its thunder-note sublime, 
 
 The teachings and the triumphs of the 
 time.
 
 104 THE ROYAL MARRIAGE ODE 
 
 VII 
 
 And lo ! the Bride and Bridegroom where 
 
 they come, 
 Their faces flushed with joy, and love-alit, 
 As, far and wide, the clarion and the drum, 
 With notes that inter-knit, 
 Announce the princely pageant, and the shout 
 Which proves that true allegiance is not dumb, 
 But Argus-eyed and voiced like the sea, 
 When all its waves are out, 
 And when the wind, — that knows itself so 
 
 free, — 
 Has put to sudden and contemptuous rout 
 The mists that late were gathered on the lea. 
 
 VIII 
 
 Oh, never yet was month, in all the girth 
 
 Of all the teeming earth, 
 
 A daintier one to note than this of ours ;
 
 THE ROYAL MARRIAGE ODE 105 
 
 And never yet were spring-begotten flowers 
 
 Of more entranced repute 
 
 Than these that speak in odours, all day long, 
 
 Of Love's enravishment, — 
 
 As though the lily's languor were a song 
 
 Out-breathed from pure snows, — 
 
 As though the gamut of the quivering lute 
 
 Were intermixed with intermittent scent 
 
 And had the fragrance of the English rose. 
 
 IX 
 Ruler of Heaven, that with a lightning-flash 
 Dost eye the welkin, and, from star to star, 
 Dost count the myriads of mortality, 
 And art for ever, as Thine angels are, 
 Unseen of men this side the sunset-bar, 
 And hast Thy footfall on the tidal sea 
 In hours of calm, and when the tempests 
 clash, —
 
 106 THE ROYAL MARRIAGE ODE 
 
 Ruler supreme, unfailing in Thy might, 
 
 That hast, by day and night, 
 
 A Father's love, unfaltering to the end, 
 
 For all who skyward tend, 
 
 And evermore art prompt in Thy decrees, — 
 
 Look down on us, Thy people, and on these, 
 
 The children of the Children of the Throne, 
 
 For whom the bells intone 
 
 The loudest, proudest, most ecstatic notes 
 
 That e'er from molten throats 
 
 Have flung entrancement on the fields and 
 
 bowers, 
 And towns and topmost towers, 
 Of this our Land of love and enterprise ! 
 O Thou that hast Thy sanctum in the skies, 
 Beyond the spaces where the planets meet, 
 And watchest all Thy creatures from above 
 For countless aeons that to Thee are hours, 
 Or minutes merely, or a pulse's beat
 
 THE ROYAL MARRIAGE ODE IO/ 
 
 Betwixt the yea and nay of acted thought. 
 
 O Thou that in the fulness of fair love 
 
 Dost make from out the nothingness of nought 
 
 The surging millions of mortality, 
 
 And hast the thunder for Thine ancient voice, 
 
 And for Thy silence, death, — 
 
 And for the flux and influx of Thy breath 
 
 The rush and roll of ages that rejoice, — 
 
 Bless Thou, this day, the realm, as in the past ; 
 
 Bless and defend our Kingdom of the Sea, 
 
 That all who turn to Thee 
 
 May find their solace here, from first to last, 
 
 And rout the foes of Freedom and of Right, 
 
 Who launch, in our despite, 
 
 The lie that's merged in mockery of all good. 
 
 Disperse them, Mighty God, with all their 
 
 brood, 
 And make them fall,— as fall in hurricanes 
 The doomed, unbending trees, —
 
 I08 THE ROYAL MARRIAGE ODE 
 
 That,in the years to come,none such maysound 
 Their traitorous tocsin-bell on English ground, 
 Whereon, to-day, are heard the lilting strains 
 Of glory's interlude, 
 
 And Love's full chorus on the rapturous 
 breeze ! 
 
 X 
 
 Ring out, ring out, ye silver-sounding bells, 
 
 Ye praise-abounding bells, 
 
 That are intoned to-day 
 
 For thoughts that wake in May 
 
 The apt enthralment of remembered joys. 
 
 Ye seem to melt in prayer, — 
 
 Ye seem to soar on wings of tender poise 
 
 To rouse the realm from Sorrow's dark 
 
 embrace, 
 And therewithal, — as fits a theme so fair, — 
 To bring the Past and Future face to face
 
 THE ROYAL MARRIAGE ODE IO9 
 
 In this our living Present by the grace 
 
 Of most High God ! — Such joy about ye clings 
 
 Ye seem to tell of flowers and wedding-rings 
 
 New-sanctified by fervour of new praise 
 
 Of him to whom we raise 
 
 Our paean-shouts of honour in Love's name : — 
 
 The Captain of the Comrades of the Flag, 
 
 A captain of such fame 
 
 As should be talked of on the loftiest crag 
 
 Of proud and prompt ambition, as of yore. 
 
 For there's no heart that's English to the core 
 
 But loves him well and beats for joy of him ; 
 
 And youthful eyes grow dim 
 
 As men rehearse the perils he has passed, 
 
 When, out upon the tearing, shuddering blast, 
 
 He has fulfilled new duties, not set down, 
 
 But done for pride of Country and of Crown ! 
 
 For, his the look that all true sailors know, — 
 
 The look of blue-eyed seamen who, on shore,
 
 IIO THE ROYAL MARRIAGE ODE 
 
 Do talk of death and danger and the roar 
 Of rampant waves, — the wreckers of the foe ! 
 The look of one at peace with all the world, 
 Who yet, full soon, with England's flag un- 
 furled, 
 Would scale the heights of Duty ! 
 His be the meed, and his the prize of beauty, 
 And evermore his name be named aloud 
 As one of whom the seas and lands are proud. 
 
 XI 
 
 Ring out, ring out, ye rapt, unerring chimes, 
 
 That with the lilt of rhymes 
 
 And with the madness of metallic mirth 
 
 Do seem to wake the earth 
 
 To new achievements of old prophecy ; 
 
 Ring out, ring out, your triumph to the sky, 
 
 And tell again the truth-abiding tale 
 
 Of man and maid affianced in the sight
 
 THE ROYAL MARRIAGE ODE I I I 
 
 Of God Eternal whom the Fates obey ! 
 
 Ring out from hill to dale, 
 
 From town to town, from street to furthest 
 
 street, 
 That all who meet and greet 
 May hear the joy-bells in the wind's caress, 
 And Love's instalment in the roar of guns. 
 Aye ! ring your changes all the livelong day, 
 Till day be merged in mellowness of night, 
 And night look down with orbs of blessedness 
 On these cnravishcd, these new-wedded ones. 
 
 XII 
 
 It is the type of May in bright array 
 
 That with a prayer-full glance doth seem to say 
 
 "God keep the Kingdom safe!" — it is the 
 
 May, 
 The gemmed, the joyous May that on us 
 
 smiles, —
 
 I I 2 THE ROYAL MARRIAGE ODE 
 
 The Loved One of the Isles 
 
 Whose fame shall none dispute or disavow 
 
 As with her radiant, diamond-wreathed brow 
 
 She bends from left to right, 
 
 And right to left with love-assenting eyes, 
 
 In this cortege of wonder and delight, 
 
 While shouts on shouts arise 
 
 To greet the spouse of England's future king. 
 
 For her approach is sweeter than the sight 
 
 Of hawthorn-buds that make the meadows 
 
 bright, 
 And fringe the frondal garments of the year ; 
 And, now July is here, 
 We know 'twas Heaven that brought us back 
 
 the Spring 
 To magnify its sway ; 
 
 And while the clamorous bells about us ring, 
 We dream of flowers that grow for us in 
 
 May,—
 
 THE ROYAL MARRIAGE ODE II3 
 
 The mignonette that loves a lonely spot, 
 
 The jasmine pale, the blue forget-me-not 
 
 That looks with little eyes all down the lanes 
 
 To watch for happy swains, — 
 
 And daisies, with the wimples they have on, 
 
 That drink the dews and drowsiness of dawn ; 
 
 And that fair flower of youth, 
 
 The rose of York, the white rose of the hedge, 
 
 That was a warrior's pledge, 
 
 And is, to-day, a sailor's in all truth. 
 
 XIII 
 O month of May that hast the shape of one 
 Who loves the Land, and is the Land's 
 
 delight,— 
 O May belov'd by all beneath the sun 
 Who love true-love to-day, — 
 The flower and dower of May, 
 
 Of our sweet English May ! — 
 
 11
 
 114 THE ROYAL MARRIAGE ODE 
 
 O month, proclaim'd in thy primeval might 
 As month of months for ever ! — thou art her's, 
 And she is thine, thy sister, thy true friend, 
 In whom thy favours blend, 
 As dawn with day, as June with bright July, 
 With which the sun unceasingly confers, 
 To gild these pomps of ours that shall not die, 
 Though summer's self must surely come to end. 
 And since the nation claims her for its own 
 The sun looks down, approving, and elate, 
 From out the silence of his azure tent, 
 A king, far-seeing, on his golden throne 
 Who knows the lords of earth in their estate; 
 And this young Sailor Prince of high descent, 
 Acclaimed of all true men, by land and sea, 
 Where Freedom's fight, in England's name, 
 
 is fought, — 
 The son of our good King that is to be, 
 Of whom 'tis said, and justly, that in thought,
 
 THE ROYAL MARRIAGE ODE II5 
 
 In thought and word and deed, for life and 
 
 death, 
 He loves the Land that quickened him with 
 
 breath, 
 And, with the Land, this scion of his House 
 For whom the summer brings by its decree, 
 In this great day's carouse, 
 A wreath of beauteous and unceasing fame 
 That sanctifies and sweetens the good name 
 Of Her we bow to as God's Deputy ! 
 
 XIV 
 O Maker of the margins of the deep, 
 On which arc marked the tracings of the 
 
 shocks 
 Of time and tide and tempest and old age, 
 In warm and wintry climes, 
 Where fears abide, and where the whirlwinds 
 
 keep
 
 I 1 6 THE ROYAL MARRIAGE ODE 
 
 Their ghostly revels in the caves and rocks, 
 And where the winds assuage 
 Their mid-day thirst at some fierce equinox. 
 O thou unwavering God, that many times 
 Hast joyed in Thy creation, and art just, 
 And boundless in Thy mercy, and Thy trust, 
 And art the splendid wearer of the robes 
 Of day and night, and on the rolling globes 
 Hast set Thy mark, and art Omnipotent, — 
 O thou dread Lord that with a breathed word 
 Can'st make and unmake mountains and the 
 
 meres 
 Of twice ten thousand years, 
 When the great depths are stirred, — 
 And hast the summers and the verdant 
 
 springs 
 For Thine unfolding, and, when clouds are rent, 
 The whirl and swirl of winds that plough the 
 
 waves,
 
 THE ROYAL MARRIAGE ODE WJ 
 
 Where poor Remembrance craves 
 
 The right to weep for wonder of dead things. 
 
 O Thou that makest morning out of night, 
 
 And darkness out of light, 
 
 And safety out of hopes untimely wreck'd, 
 
 And hast for smile the silence of the dawn, 
 
 And for Thy words the week-days that are 
 
 seven, 
 Look down on these Thy children, Thine 
 
 Elect, 
 Who wear the rose of rapture rained upon 
 By dews of dearest Heaven ! 
 
 xv 
 
 Ring out, ring out, ye golden-voiced bells, 
 
 Ye proudly-pealing bells, 
 
 And north and south, and cast and west 
 
 alway, 
 A i fits the fame of this fair marriage-day,
 
 I 1 8 THE ROYAL MARRIAGE ODE 
 
 Make all your meanings clear, and therewithal 
 The trust that in us dwells, 
 That evermore, at love's and honour's call, 
 The Bride and Bridegroom of this hallowed 
 
 time, 
 For whom we sound the chime, 
 May be a life-long lustre for us all. 
 Ring out, ring out, ye love-abiding bells, 
 Ye wildly-wakened bells, 
 Adown the moors, across the dales and hills, 
 Where blow the winds, where grow the 
 
 daffodils, 
 And where the ways are strewn 
 With token-flowers bequeathed to us by 
 
 June. 
 Oh, ring, ye bells, divinely as beseems 
 A day of sweetest dreams, 
 Which, by-and-by, the stars will sparkle to, 
 A-glittering through and through,
 
 THE ROYAL MARRIAGE ODE II9 
 
 From out the welkin's warm and dizzy 
 
 height ; — 
 Ring out, ring out, and rend the air with notes 
 That meet and mix, and part and re-unite, — 
 As, with melodious throats, 
 Ye, hour by hour, proclaim 
 The rites of these, the Chosen of our Land, 
 Whom God, to-day, has joined hand in hand 
 For love, — for glory, — and for England's 
 
 fame !
 
 A CHORAL ODE TO LIBERTY 
 
 I 
 O SUN LIKE Liberty, with eyes of flame, 
 
 Mother and maid, immortal, man's delight! 
 Fairest and first art thou in name and fame, 
 
 And none shall rob thee of thy vested right. 
 Where is the man, though fifty times a king, 
 Can turn the tide, or countermand the spring? 
 And where is he, though fifty times a knave, 
 Can track thy steps to cast thee in a grave ? 
 
 II 
 Old as the sun art thou, and young as morn, 
 And fresh as April when the breezes blow, 
 And girt with glory like the growing corn,
 
 A CHORAL ODE TO LIBERTY 121 
 
 And undefiled like mountains made of 
 
 snow. 
 Oh, thou'rt the summer of the souls of men, 
 And poor men's rights, approved by sword 
 
 and pen, 
 Are made self-certain as the day at noon, 
 And fair to view as flowers that grow in June. 
 
 Ill 
 Look, where erect and tall, thy symbol waits, 
 The gift of France to friends beyond the 
 deep 
 A lofty presence at the ocean-gates 
 
 With lips of peace and eyes that cannot 
 weep ; 
 A new-born Tellus, with uplifted arm, 
 To Light the seas and keep the land from 
 harm, —
 
 122 A CHORAL ODE TO LIBERTY 
 
 To light the coast at downfall of the day 
 And dower with dawn the darkening water- 
 way. 
 
 IV 
 O sunlike Liberty, with eyes of flame, 
 
 MotJier and maid, immortal, stern of vow ! 
 Fairest and first art thou in name and fame, 
 And thou shalt wear the lightning on thy 
 brow ! 
 
 V 
 Who dares condemn thee with the puny 
 breath 
 Of one poor life, O thou untouched of 
 Fate! 
 Who seeks to lure thee to a felon's death, 
 
 And thou so splendid, and so love-elate ? 
 Who dares do this and live ? Who dares 
 assail
 
 A CHORAL ODE TO LIBERTY I 23 
 
 Thy star-kissed forehead, pure and marble- 
 pale ; 
 And thou so self-possessed 'mid all the stir, 
 And like to Pallas born of Mulciber ? 
 
 VI 
 Oh, I've beheld the sun at setting-time 
 
 Peep o'er the hills as if to say good-bye : 
 And I have hailed it with the sudden 
 rhyme 
 Of some new thought, full-freighted with a 
 sigh. 
 And I have mused : — E'en thus may Freedom 
 
 fall, 
 And darkness shroud it like a wintry pall, 
 And night o'erwhelm it, and the shades 
 
 thereof 
 Engulf the glorii i born of perfect love.
 
 124 A CHORAL ODE TO LIBERTY 
 
 VII 
 But there's no fall for thee; there is no tomb; 
 And none shall stab thee, none shall stay 
 thy hand. 
 Thy face is fair with love's eternal bloom 
 And thou shalt have all things at thy 
 command. 
 A grave for thee ? Aye, when the sun is slain, 
 And lamps and fires make daylight on the 
 
 plain, 
 Then may'st thou die, O Freedom ! and for thee 
 A tomb be found where fears and dangers be. 
 
 VIII 
 
 O sunlike Liberty, with eyes of flame, 
 Mother and maid, immortal, keen of sight ! 
 
 Fairest and first art thou in name and fame, 
 And thou shalt tread the tempest in the 
 night !
 
 A CHORAL ODE TO LIBERTY 1 25 
 
 IX 
 
 There shall be feasting and a sound of song 
 In thy great cities ; and a voice divine 
 
 Shall tell of freedom all the winter long, 
 And fill the air with rapture as with wine. 
 
 The spring shall hear it, spring shall hear 
 the sound ; 
 
 And summer waft it o'er the flowcrful ground; 
 
 And autumn pale shall shake her withered 
 leaves 
 
 On festal morns and star-bespangled eves. 
 
 x 
 For thou'rt the smile of Heaven when earth 
 is dim, — 
 The face of God reflected in the sea, — 
 The land's acclaim uplifted by the hymn 
 
 Of some glad lark triumphant on the lea. 
 Thou art all this and more ! Thou art the goal
 
 126 A CHORAL ODE TO LIBERTY 
 
 Of earth's elected ones from pole to pole, 
 The lute-string's voice, the world's primeval 
 
 fire, 
 And each man's hope, and every man's desire. 
 
 XI 
 
 O pure and proud ! O gentle and sublime ! 
 For thee and thine, O Freedom ! O my 
 
 Joy! 
 For thee, Celestial ! on the shores of time 
 
 A throne is built which no man shall destroy. 
 Thou shalt be seen for miles and miles around, 
 And wield a sceptre, though of none be 
 
 crowned. 
 The waves shall know thee, and the winds of 
 
 heaven 
 Shall sing thee songs with mixed and mighty 
 
 Steven.
 
 A CHORAL ODE TO LIBERTY 1 27 
 
 XII 
 
 O sunlike Liberty, with eyes of flame 
 Mother and maid, immortal, unconfined ! 
 
 Fairest and first art thou in name and fame, 
 And thou shalt speed more swiftly than the 
 wind ! 
 
 XIII 
 
 Who loves thee not is traitor to himself, 
 Traitor is he to God and to the grave, 
 Poor as a miser with his load of pelf, 
 
 And more unstable than a leeward wave. 
 Cursed is he for aye, and his shall be 
 A name of shame from sea to furthest 
 
 sea, 
 A name of scorn to all men under the sun 
 Whose upright souls have learnt to loathe 
 this one.
 
 128 A CHORAL ODE TO LIBERTY 
 
 XIV 
 
 A thousand times, O Freedom! have I turned 
 To thy rapt face, and wished that, martyr- 
 wise, 
 I might achieve some glory, such as burned 
 Within the depths of Gordon's azure eyes. 
 Ah God ! how sweet it were to guard thy life, 
 To aid thy cause, self-sinking in the strife, 
 Loving thee best, O Freedom ! and in tears 
 Giving thee thanks for death-accepted years. 
 
 XV 
 For thou art fearful, though so grand of soul, 
 Fearful and fearless, and the friend of 
 men. 
 The haughtiest kings shall bow to thy con- 
 trol, 
 And rich and poor shall take thy guidance 
 then.
 
 A CHORAL ODE TO LIBERTY 1 29 
 
 Who doubts the daylight when he sees afar 
 The fading lamp of some night-weary star, 
 Which, prophet-like, has heard amid the dark 
 The first faint prelude of the nested lark ? 
 
 XVI 
 O sunlike Liberty, with eyes of flame, 
 Mother and maid, immortal, prompt of 
 thought ! 
 Fairest and first art thou in name and fame, 
 And thou shall lash the storm till it be 
 nought ! 
 
 XVII 
 O thou desired of men ! O thou supreme 
 And true-toned spirit whom the bards 
 revere ! 
 At times thou com'st in likeness of a dream 
 To urge rebellion with a face austere;
 
 130 A CHORAL ODE TO LIBERTY 
 
 And, by that power thou hast, — e'en by that 
 
 power 
 Which is the outcome of thy sovereign-dower, — 
 Thou teachest slaves, down-trodden, how to 
 
 stand 
 Lords of themselves in each chivalrous Land. 
 
 XVIII 
 
 The hosts of death, the squadrons of the law, 
 The arm'd appeal to pageantry and hate, 
 
 Shall serve, a space, to keep thy name in 
 awe, 
 And then collapse, as old and out of date. 
 
 Yea, this shall be ; for God has willed it so ; 
 
 And none shall touch thy flag, to lay it low ; 
 
 And none shall rend thy robe that is to 
 thee 
 
 As dawn to day, as sunlight to the sea.
 
 A CHORAL ODE TO LIBERTY 131 
 
 XIX 
 
 For love of thee, thou grand, thou gracious 
 thing ! 
 For love of thee all seas, and every shore, 
 And all domains whereof the poets sing 
 Shall merge in Man's requirements ever- 
 more. 
 And there shall be, full soon, from north to 
 
 south, 
 From east to west, by Wisdom's word of mouth, 
 One code of laws that all shall understand, 
 And all the world shall be one Fatherland. 
 
 x x 
 O sunlike Liberty, with eyes of flame 
 
 Mother and maid, immortal, sweet of breath .< 
 Fairest anil first art thou in name and fame, 
 And thou shalt pluck Redemption out of 
 Death ! 
 
 /
 
 HYMN TO THE RISING SUN 
 
 I 
 Thou mighty Orb that on the Morning's brow 
 Dost shine, all-seeing, in the plenitude 
 Of thine up-rising through the Infinite ! 
 Look down and bless the day that's now 
 
 ordained, 
 And let the pagans of the pomp of earth 
 Be thine for ever, thou that art a king 
 
 And hast the Orient for thy crowning-place 
 And all the welkin for thy way of grace. 
 
 II 
 
 The sea is thine, the shores thereof are thine, 
 And all the haunts of men through all the 
 zones ;
 
 HYMN TO THE RISING SUN 1 33 
 
 Yea, each created thing, all through the years, 
 All things are thine, to make thee paramount ; 
 And there's no essence known, by sea or land, 
 That is not quickened by the sight of thee ; 
 No ! there is nothing, earthward or in air, 
 Which loves thee not with love beyond 
 compare. 
 
 Ill 
 O holiest on the mountains ! O thou sun 
 That art a portent and prodigy, 
 And evermore dost measure time and space I 
 To thee we turn, to sec thee what thou art, — 
 How fair, how constant, and how girt with 
 
 beams, 
 And how exultant in thy golden strength, 
 When, one by one, the stars confess thy 
 
 power 
 And leave thee all the landscapes for a dower.
 
 134 HYMN TO THE RISING SUN 
 
 IV 
 
 Bless thou the hills, the rivers, and the plains, 
 The founts, the forests, and the foaming sea ; 
 And each and all thy life-long suppliants ! 
 Throughout the seasons of thy setting-time 
 Bless thou the winds which are thy mes- 
 sengers ; 
 And, in thy rising, bless thou every field 
 And every harvest which thou shinest on, 
 And every soul who claims thy benison. 
 
 v 
 O planet-prince ! Thou glory born of night, 
 That, out of night, dost come to sway the 
 
 world ! 
 Behold, we love thee as the ancients loved, 
 When thou didst bear a god's name under 
 
 Heaven. 
 For thou'rt the Regent of the King of Kings,
 
 HYMN TO THE RISING SUN 1 35 
 
 And His exponent through the centuries; 
 And all thy ways are wondrous, as of old, 
 When Sappho praised thee with her harp 
 of gold. 
 
 VI 
 
 A laureate-bird is thine in every grove ; 
 In all the fields thou hast thy troubadours. 
 A thousand times the lark has trilled to thee, 
 And waked the woods in April and in May ; 
 A myriad times, and more, his skyward notes 
 Have drenched the summer with the dews of 
 song, 
 And made, as 'twere, a feast-time overhead, 
 For bards to boast of when the days are 
 dead. 
 
 VII 
 
 Thou proud and prompt! Thou keeper of 
 the keys
 
 136 HYMN TO THE RISING SUN 
 
 Of East and West, which are thy heritage, 
 Where thou, — at soaring and at setting- 
 time, — 
 Dost hold a mansion, well-belov'd of men, 
 The roofs whereof are jasper and red light. 
 O jocund king ! transcendent, unafraid, 
 And unassailed by storms throughout the 
 
 land, 
 Look down and bless the oceans thou hast 
 spanned. 
 
 VIII 
 Bless thou the workers and the men of 
 
 thought, 
 The work they do, the wonders of the lute, 
 And all the whisperings of the woods and 
 
 streams ! 
 For thou'rt the wearer of the clouds of 
 
 morn,
 
 HYMN TO THE RISING SUN 1 37 
 
 And where thou art the hours are golden- 
 
 wing'd, 
 And where thy servants are thy fame is great, 
 And where thy singers are, in bower and 
 
 town, 
 The hearts of men respond to thy renown. 
 
 IX 
 
 Hear us, Light-Giver ! and from dawn to 
 
 dusk, 
 Be thou the fiery signal of much joy ! 
 Unfurl thy banners beauteous on the hills, 
 And let the flash thereof, — thy blazonry, — 
 Be hope's fore-runner in the reddening meads, 
 ire of Seasons ! Monarch of the Months ! 
 Illume us here, thy suppliants, on the sod, 
 And had us, through thy summers, up to 
 God!
 
 THE WHITE ROSE OF THE CROWN 
 
 Specially written in Commemoration 
 
 of the Birth of Prince Edward 
 
 of York. June 23RD, 1894 
 
 1 
 Now has the golden year upon its way- 
 Vouchsafed a blessing for the Land's delight ; 
 And Grief, the bane of earth, has taken flight. 
 The year is thrilled with love, as on the day, 
 When York brought home the May, 
 And wedding-bellswere clamorous all the morn 
 With messages to men. 
 For lo ! to England's Crown a child is born, 
 A bud of hope, a rose without a thorn, 
 A little life whose emblem is a dove 
 New-sped from Heaven above 
 To be acclaimed now by lute and pen.
 
 THE WHITE ROSE OF THE CROWN 1 39 
 
 II 
 
 The flag may well be proud to wave aloft 
 With all its tints unfurled, 
 The while the sun, effulgent, fair and soft 
 Looks down with fostering and benignant 
 
 gaze 
 On him for whom are strewn, in gentle praise, 
 The token-flowers of joy from half a world. 
 
 Ill 
 Dear England's Child ! be thine the nation's 
 
 care, 
 The people's love throughout the years to 
 
 come, 
 And earnest men thy servants in the sum 
 Of all their deeds for ever ! 
 Glory be thine and danger track thee never ; 
 And Misery, from the purlieus of its l;u'r, 
 M.ikc no complaints of thee in thine estate ;
 
 140 THE WHITE ROSE OF THE CROWN 
 
 And Anarchy, whose dictum is of hate, 
 Collapse at sight of thee ; 
 For Love is lord of all, in Childhood's name, 
 And knows not malice, or the touch of shame, 
 Or any lack of faith by land or sea. 
 
 IV 
 Now shall be heard the sky-saluting sound 
 Of patriot-voices, and the glad rebound 
 Of trump and cannon, famed in many rights, 
 That re-announce the rights 
 Of sceptred Freedom, our true heritage ; 
 Nor shall we need a scroll or battle-gage 
 To prove its trustiness. 
 We have it safe ; and with it, — ocean-wide 
 And clear as God has willed it, — the good 
 
 news 
 Of leagued vows in lands that we possess 
 Out there, beyond the billowy, bounding tide
 
 THE WHITE ROSE OF THE CROWN 141 
 
 Where this great flag of ours absorbs the 
 
 hues, 
 As earth and sky and sea, as all men know ; 
 And how it scares the foe, 
 And how, to keep it pure and proud and 
 
 high, 
 The best of us would kiss its folds, — and die ! 
 
 V 
 But peace is with us, and the plenitude 
 Of power consorted with such equity 
 As fits the age we live in, and the free 
 And fearless Briton, born for precedence ; 
 And with us, too, the hate of party-feud, 
 The cry for one vast union and the sense 
 Of England's mission, based on Brotherhood. 
 The world has learnt our lessons more than 
 
 once, 
 And will again, — if one may read aright
 
 142 THE WHITE ROSE OF THE CROWN 
 
 The record of the guns, — 
 
 And therewithal the measure of the might 
 
 Of Albion's hero-sons, 
 
 Who, far and wide, have borne, and yet will 
 
 bear, 
 Our lordly banner like a flame in air. 
 
 VI 
 
 Yet there's a sweeter thing than Fame's 
 
 award, 
 Or mastery of the menace of the sword, 
 Or fear that brings the traitor to his knees, 
 Or meekness of a bride, 
 Or lilting of the lav'rock on the breeze 
 When dews of morn are dried. 
 There is a sweeter thing than all of these, 
 A purer thing than pardon, and a pride 
 Better than pomp or pageant in the land : — 
 It is the sinless hand,
 
 THE WHITE ROSE OF THE CROWN 1 43 
 
 The blameless touch of one such little child 
 
 As this whereon full tenderly have smiled 
 
 The Great Ones of the Realm ! 
 
 And who shall say this offshoot of the Crown 
 
 Will not achieve renown 
 
 And gild anew the glories of his race 
 
 By God's abiding potency of grace 
 
 When foes would overwhelm ? 
 
 VII 
 
 A dearer pledge than this can no man bring 
 
 To sanctify the sweetness of the spring, 
 
 Or give the radiant June a summer-sway 
 
 Of joy and splendour fit for holiday. 
 
 The weakness of a child is more than strength 
 
 Of might)- armies, when, at sceptre's length 
 
 From some Imperial Throne, 
 
 Which knows it for its own, 
 
 It smiles into the future all day Ion
 
 144 THE WHITE ROSE OF THE CROWN 
 
 As if, — beyond our zone, — 
 
 It heard an angel's whisper through a song ; — 
 
 A babe is pure, a rose can do no wrong ! 
 
 VIII 
 Let's talk to-day of England, and of times, 
 When men are moved, as by a spirit-call, 
 To do the deeds that ripen into rhymes ; 
 And when our banner, famous in all climes, 
 Asserts our ocean-prowess, and the thrall 
 Of Her whose rule is gracious to us all. 
 Let those be sad who must, — 
 Our hopes shall not be slain ; 
 Nor shall the sword of Empire go to rust ! 
 All through the long and loved, triumphant 
 
 reign 
 Of great Victoria, dear to English hearts, 
 This truth was ever plain, — 
 The Crown's the token of the Nation's trust,
 
 THE WHITE ROSE OF THE CROWN 1 45 
 
 And so shall prove, again and yet again ! 
 
 The day comes, and departs ; 
 
 The night annuls the sunset, and the sun 
 
 Rises to rule the morrow in God's name ; 
 
 And, — like that Constant One, — 
 
 E'en like the sphered blazonry of Heaven, 
 
 The circlet of the Sovereign brings us fame, 
 
 And blessings seven times seven ; 
 
 And who shall doubt the joys that we 
 
 acclaim ? 
 The child we greet to-day will grow apace, 
 A boy, a man, a Briton true of soul, 
 Unmarred by stern control 
 Of adverse fate or evil wish fulfilled ; 
 And him the years will place 
 On such a height a; Freedom's self hath 
 
 willed !
 
 ODE TO AN IDEAL POET 
 
 I 
 
 Singer of songs, immortal, unsurpassed, 
 
 That in the fulness of the flowering time 
 
 Of rapt, unerring rhyme 
 
 Hast made thyself a master among men, 
 
 And, with the witchery of a wayward pen, 
 
 Hast shown, from first to last, 
 
 The power thou hast to thrill us as with 
 
 fire, — 
 Poet and seer and sounder of the lyre 
 That hast no rival underneath the sun 
 Since glorious Shelley comes not back 
 
 again,— 
 Take thou the homage due to thy renown
 
 ODE TO AN IDEAL POET 1 47 
 
 As one for whom the seasons cannot frown. 
 Aye, take it, minstrel, for 'tis fairly won 
 By truth acclaimed, as at a Delphic shrine, 
 And that large love of freedom which is 
 thine. 
 
 II 
 What need a crown for thee, what need a 
 
 wreath, 
 And thou so sceptred in supremacy ? 
 As leaps a sword from out its glittering sheath 
 So leaps the splendour of thy thought from 
 
 thee. 
 In all the world there's hoik; can sing as thou 
 
 ;rief and joy and -lory in fair days, 
 
 And nights beyond all praise, 
 
 Wherein arc heard, as in ,1 languorous dream, 
 The throbbing ■ Oi all lutes and dulcimt 1 . 
 
 For thou hast been no breaker of the vow
 
 I48 ODE TO AN IDEAL POET 
 
 That bound thee to the Brotherhood of Song. 
 Apollo met thee by his haunted stream 
 And there he filled thee with the fire that 
 
 stirs 
 Thy soul to-day, to make thee passion-strong. 
 No bard is like to thee in all the Land 
 Which knows thee, and is glad of thee, and 
 
 proud, 
 And names thy name aloud 
 As first and foremost of the singing-band. 
 
 Ill 
 If there be greater bards let them appear ! 
 If there be one alive to cope with thee 
 Let's hear his song ! If he can strike the 
 
 chords 
 As thou, from year to year, 
 Let's own his skill in such high minstrelsy ! 
 All praise to him who takes divine awards
 
 ODE TO AN IDEAL POET 1 49 
 
 Beyond thy teaching-, if such man there be. 
 But there's none such in this world's way- 
 wardness ; 
 And like a paean is the proud caress 
 Of thy sweet singing of the sea-ward joys ; 
 For thou'rt an ocean-lover ; and as brave 
 As Byron was to wanton with the wave ; 
 And, in the Maytimc of the verdant plains, 
 When we are sheltered from the winter's ban 
 And spring and winter hold the world in poise, 
 Thou dost renew the rapture of the strains 
 That tell of freedom and the hopes of Man, 
 And doubts dissolved, and dangers that are 
 
 gains, 
 And lapse of battle-pain i ; 
 And love and laughter born of little sighs, 
 And comfort of the kissing of closed eyes! 
 And one may guess, in brooding on thy 
 words,
 
 I50 ODE TO AN IDEAL POET 
 
 That all the woodland ways are known to 
 
 thee, 
 And all the secrets of the singing-birds, 
 And all the mirth and madness of the sea. 
 
 IV 
 Thou hast a song for every day's desire, 
 And every hour's enthralment and behoof; 
 And, from the thunder-cloud of thy reproof, 
 The lightning of thine anger flashes forth ; 
 A tongue of searching and persistent fire, 
 To reprimand the despot in his might 
 And plead for those who combat for the 
 
 Right ! 
 For none can still the sea, or quell the wind, 
 From east to west, from south into the north, 
 Or build anew the rainbow when 'tis torn ; 
 And none can curb the clamours of the mind, 
 Or kill a thought new-born.
 
 ODE TO AN IDEAL POET 1 5 I 
 
 V 
 
 Oh, thou'rt as free as storms at equinox ; 
 And with thy lyrics, as with battle-shocks, 
 Thou dost assail the foes of humankind 
 Who cringe on supple knee, — 
 Let such beware of thee ! 
 For, should the best of them betray their trust, 
 Thy'trenchant word would bring them to the 
 dust. 
 
 VI 
 
 But hate absorbs thee not j thy theme is love, 
 And all the joys and all the griefs thereof 
 Which all the years unfold. 
 Thy hand is strong ; thy lute-strings arc of 
 
 gold ; 
 And thou, as Chaucer did in days gone by, 
 Can'st wake the world to wonder and delight, 
 And through the courts and corridors of fame
 
 152 ODE TO AN IDEAL POET 
 
 Can'st make thy voice ring out, by day and 
 
 night, 
 In full-toned ecstacies of earth and sky. 
 Thou hast for badge a star, for faith a flame, 
 And for thy meed the halo of a name; 
 Thy peers are with the dead who cannot die !
 
 THE SONG OF THE FLAG 
 
 I 
 Up with the flag ! 
 
 And let the winds caress it fold on fold, — 
 For 'tis the token of a truth sublime, 
 A flag of pride, a splendour to behold ! 
 And 'tis our honour's pledge : 
 A thing to die for, and to wonder at, 
 When, on the shuddering edge 
 Of some great storm, it waves its woven joy 
 Which no man shall destroy, 
 In shine or shower, in peace or battle-time. 
 Up with the flag ! 
 
 The winds are wild to toss it, and to brag 
 Of England's high renown, — 
 And of the throne where Chivalry has sat
 
 154 THE SONG OF THE FLAG 
 
 Acclaimed in bower and town 
 
 For England's high renown, — 
 
 And of these happy isles where men are free 
 
 And masters of the sea, 
 
 The million-mouthed sea, 
 
 That calls to us from shore to furthest shore, — 
 
 That fought for us of yore, — 
 
 The thunder-throated, foam-frequented sea 
 
 That sounds the psalm of Victory evermore ! 
 
 II 
 
 For England's sake, to-day, 
 
 And for this flag of ours which, to the blast, 
 
 Unfurls in proud array 
 
 Its glittering width of splendour unsurpass'd, — 
 
 For England's sake, 
 
 For our dear Sovereign's sake, — 
 
 We cry all shame on traitors, high and low, 
 
 Whose word let no man take
 
 THE SONG OF THE FLAG 155 
 
 Whose love let no man seek throughout the 
 
 Land, — 
 Traitors who strive with most degenerate 
 
 hand 
 To bring about our Country's overthrow. 
 
 Ill 
 The sun reels up the sky, the mists are gone, 
 And overhead the lilting bird of dawn 
 Has spread, adoring-wise, as for a prayer, 
 Those wondrous wings of his, 
 Which never yet were symbols of despair. 
 It is the feathery focman of the night 
 Who shakes a-down the air 
 Song-scented trills and sunlit ecstacics. 
 Aye, 'tis the lark, the chorister in gray, 
 Who sings hosannahs to the lord of light, 
 And will not stint the measure of his lay, 
 As hour to hour, and joy to joy succeeds.
 
 156 THE SONG OF THE FLAG 
 
 For he's the morning-mirth of English meads; 
 And we, who mark the moving of his wings, 
 We know how sweet the soil whereof he 
 
 sings, — 
 How glad the grass, how green the summer's 
 
 thrall, 
 How like a gracious garden the dear Land 
 That loves the ocean and the tossed-up sand 
 Whereof the wind has made a coronal ; 
 And how in spring and summer, at sunrise, 
 The birds fling out their raptures to the skies, 
 And have the grace of God upon them all. 
 
 IV 
 Up with the flag ! 
 
 Up, up betimes, and proudly speak of it ; 
 A lordly thing to see on tower and crag 
 O'er which, — as eagles flit 
 With eyes a-fire, and wings of phantasy, —
 
 THE SONG OF THE FLAG 1 57 
 
 Our memories hang superb ! 
 
 The foes we frown upon shall feel the curb 
 
 Of our full sway ; and they shall shamed be 
 
 Who wrong, with sword or pen, 
 
 The Code that keeps us free. 
 
 For there's no sight, in summer or in spring, 
 
 Like our great standard-pole, 
 
 When round about it ring 
 
 The cheers of Britons, bounden, heart and 
 
 soul, 
 To deeds of duty dear to Englishmen ; 
 And he who serves it has a name to see 
 On Victory's muster-roll ; 
 And he who loves it not, how vile is he ! 
 For 'tis the wave's delight, — 
 Our ocean-wonder, blue and red and white ; 
 Blue as the skies, and red as roses are, 
 And white as foam that flashed at Trafalgar ; 
 The wind's and wave's delight,
 
 158 THE SONG OF THE FLAG 
 
 The badge and test of right, 
 
 Girt with its glory like a guiding-star ! 
 
 V 
 The wind has roared in English many a 
 
 time, 
 And foes have heard it on the frothy main, 
 In doom and danger, and in battle-pain j 
 And yet again may hear 
 In many a seaward, sun-enamoured clime. 
 And how the hearts of traitors ache with fear 
 When our great ships go forth, as heretofore, 
 Full-armed from the shore, — 
 And Boreas bounds exultant on the seas, 
 To bid the waves of these, — 
 The subject-waves of England and the Isles, — 
 Out-leap for miles and miles, 
 As loud as lions loosed on enemies !
 
 THE SONG OF THE FLAG 1 59 
 
 VI 
 
 Oh, may no mean surrender of the rights 
 
 Of our ancestral swords, 
 
 Which made our fathers pioneers and lords, 
 
 And victors in the fight, — 
 
 May no succession of the days and nights 
 
 Find us or ours at fault, 
 
 Or careless of our fame, our island-fame, 
 
 Our sea-begotten fame, — 
 
 And no true Briton halt 
 
 In his allegiance to the Victory-name 
 
 Which is the name we bow to, in our thought, 
 
 When English deeds are wrought 
 
 In lands that love the languors of the sun, 
 
 And where the stars have sway, 
 
 And where the moon is marvelled at for 
 
 hours. 
 The flags of nations arc the ocean-flowers, 
 And our's the dearest, our's the brightest one,
 
 l6o THE SONG OF THE FLAG 
 
 That ever shimmered on the watery way 
 
 Which patriots call to mind, 
 
 When they remember isles beyond the dawn 
 
 Where our sea-children dwell. 
 
 For there's no flag afloat upon the wind 
 
 Can wave so high, or show so fair a front, 
 
 Or gleam so proudly in the battle-brunt, 
 
 Or tell a tale of conquest half so well 
 
 As this we doat upon ! 
 
 VII 
 
 The storm is our ally, the raging sea 
 
 Is our adherent, and, to make us free, 
 
 A thousand times the full-tongued hurricane 
 
 Has bellowed forth its menace o'er the deep ; 
 
 And when dissensions sleep, 
 
 When sleep the wrought-up rancours of the 
 
 age, 
 We shall again inscribe, and yet again,
 
 THE SONG OF THE FLAG l6l 
 
 On History's glowing page 
 
 The story of the flag, — 
 
 For 'twas our Nelson's flag 
 
 Which none in all the world shall put to 
 
 shame, 
 Or vilify, or blame, — 
 The story of the glory of the flag 
 Which waved at Waterloo, 
 And was from first to last the symbol true 
 Of Wellington's pure fame. 
 
 VIII 
 
 High, high the flag for England's sake and 
 
 our's, 
 
 Who know its vested powers 
 
 And what it means, in wartime, and in peace 
 
 When fierce contentions cease, — 
 
 High, high the flag of England over all, 
 
 Which naught but good befall ! 
 i.
 
 1 62 THE SONG OF THE FLAG 
 
 High let it wave, in triumph, as a sign 
 
 Of Freedom's right divine, — 
 
 Its glorious folds out-fluttering in the gale, 
 
 Again to tell the tale 
 
 Of deeds heroic, done at Duty's call ! 
 
 The wind's our trumpeter ; and east and west, 
 
 And north and south, all day, — as on a 
 
 quest, — 
 It bears the news about 
 Of all we do and dare, in our degree, 
 And all the Land's great shout, 
 And all the pomp and pageant of the Sea !
 
 PRINTED BY 
 
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