| |
Gloriana’s England
FORTH sped thy gallant sailors, blithe and free, | |
| Fearing nor foeman’s hate, nor iron clime, | |
| Nor Lima’s flame, nor Plata’s fever-slime, | |
| So they might give thee far Cathay in fee; | |
| Yet swept thy poets o’er a vaster sea, | 5 |
| ’Neath fairer gales to Indies more sublime, | |
| Questing along the golden shores of Rhyme | |
| For all the treasure of eternity. | |
| |
| One will, one end, one pulse of deep desire, | |
| Drove Hudson through the ice to joy and death, | 10 |
| Sped Drake to glory through the long South roll: | |
| And kindled Marlowe’s eager heart with fire, | |
| Set Spenser voyaging ’neath the spirit’s breath, | |
| And won the world for Shakespeare’s captain soul. | |
| |
Hawke
GREAT sea dog, fighter in the great old way! | 15 |
| What though thy ships were tinder, and the pest | |
| Rotted thy ruffian crews that need had prest, | |
| And all thy keels were clogged with foul decay, | |
| Yet through the roaring months thy squadron lay | |
| A watch-dog eager at the throat of Brest | 20 |
| While all the ocean smote her from the West | |
| And all the tempests tore her in their play. | |
| Thy soul was of the whirlwind, and thy cry | |
| Still leaps from out the crash of guns and waves | |
| To hurl us headlong on the foeman’s van, | 25 |
| As in the Bay of Death, ’mid breakers high | |
| And felon reefs whereo’er the Atlantic raves, | |
| Thy flagship foremost into glory ran. | |
| |
Nelson
WHITE soul of England’s glory, sovereign star! | |
| Ne’er shall disaster beat her down, nor shame, | 30 |
| While still she sees thee by the leaping flame | |
| That kindled o’er Aboukir, near and far, | |
| Or feels thee quivering through the onset’s jar | |
| That filled the North with fear of England’s name, | |
| Or trembles with the joy of all the fame | 35 |
| That died and cast out death at Trafalgar. | |
| |
| Thy name was lightning, and like lightning ay | |
| Thine onset shivered, far and swift and fell: | |
| Ever thy watchword holds us, and whene’er | |
| The fierce Dawn breaks, and far along the sky | 40 |
| Roars the last battle, yet with us ’tis well— | |
| We keep the touch, thy hand and soul are there. | |
| |
Dawn at Liverpool
THE SUNLIGHT laughs along the serried stone | |
| About whose feet the wastrel tide runs free; | |
| Light lie the shipmasts, fairy-like to see, | 45 |
| Athwart the royal city’s splendour thrown; | |
| On runs the noble river, wide and lone, | |
| Like some great soul that presses to the sea | |
| Where life is rendered to eternity | |
| And eager thought hath rest in the Unknown. | 50 |
| |
| So sets thy tide, my country, to the deep | |
| Whose face is black with thunder near and far, | |
| And vexed with fleering gusts and tyrannous rain. | |
| Shall the cloud lift and give thee rest and sleep, | |
| Or wilt thou ’mid the surge and crash of war | 55 |
| Shatter thy life against the invading main? | |
| |
Australia, 1902
GALLANT is Spring along thy laughing hills, | |
| With wattle’s loveliest scent and gleam of gold, | |
| When the good rain hath quickened all thy mould, | |
| And the hot musk thine air with incense fills. | 60 |
| Sweet is the chime of all thy tinkling rills, | |
| And fair thy Summer’s glory to behold, | |
| And soft is life for thee, the sunny-souled, | |
| Far from the world and all its olden ills. | |
| |
| Yet ’tis not calm that builds the hero breed, | 65 |
| High hearts are tempered ’neath a stormy star, | |
| Through want and danger doth the soul increase, | |
| Stern rings the clarion voice of Angel Need | |
| To bid thee vanquish self, and gaze afar | |
| And save thy soul alive from Harlot Peace. | 70 |
| |
Australia, 1905
CARELESS she lies along the Southern Main, | |
| The lovely maiden, wanton with the spell | |
| Of sun and vastness and the ocean swell: | |
| Northward the great gnomes watch her beauty, fain | |
| To snatch her wealth of gold and fleece and grain, | 75 |
| And bend her being to their purpose fell: | |
| But she lies lazy, and the passing bell | |
| Of older glory stirs her sense in vain. | |
| |
| Nor shall she wake and know her danger near | |
| Till some high heart and true, her fated lord, | 80 |
| Shall kiss her lips, and all her will control, | |
| And fill her wayward heart with holy fear, | |
| And cross her forehead with his iron sword, | |
| And bring her strength, and armour, and a soul. | |
| |
Australia, 1914
THE NIGHT is thick with storm and driving cloud, | 85 |
| Lurid at instants through the blackness break | |
| Quick gleams of war across the perilous lake | |
| From yonder isles that awe and magic shroud: | |
| Far in the northland smite Thor’s hammers loud | |
| On steel that warlocks for her spoilure make, | 90 |
| Till lo! from sleep Australia starts awake | |
| And lifts the queenly head that sloth had bowed. | |
| |
| Not yet her eyes are clear: throughout her brain | |
| Still swarm the antic creatures of her dream, | |
| The idiot jests, the sports that kill the soul, | 95 |
| Yet shall not night lay hold on her again, | |
| For through the rack she spies the morning gleam | |
| Clear on the sword that lights her to her goal. | |
| |
Australia to England
BY all the deeds to Thy dear glory done, | |
| By all the lifeblood spilt to serve Thy need, | 100 |
| By all the fettered lives Thy touch hath freed, | |
| By all Thy dream in us anew begun: | |
| By all the guerdon English sire to son | |
| Hath given of highest vision, kingliest deed, | |
| By all Thine agony, of God decreed | 105 |
| For trial and strength, our fate with Thine is one. | |
| |
| Still dwells Thy spirit in our hearts and lips, | |
| Honour and life we hold from none but Thee, | |
| And if we live Thy pensioners no more | |
| But seek a nation’s might of men and ships, | 110 |
| ’Tis but that when the world is black with war | |
| Thy sons may stand beside Thee strong and free. | |
| |
