| |
| THIS is the Chapel: here, my son, | |
| Your father thought the thoughts of youth, | |
| And heard the words that one by one | |
| The touch of Life has turn’d to truth. | |
| Here in a day that is not far | 5 |
| You too may speak with noble ghosts, | |
| Of manhood and the vows of war | |
| You made before the Lord of Hosts. | |
| |
| To set the Cause above renown, | |
| To love the game beyond the prize, | 10 |
| To honour, while you strike him down, | |
| The foe that comes with fearless eyes: | |
| To count the life of battle good, | |
| And dear the land that gave you birth, | |
| And dearer yet the brotherhood | 15 |
| That binds the brave of all the earth.— | |
| |
| My son, the oath is yours: the end | |
| Is His, Who built the world of strife, | |
| Who gave His children Pain for friend, | |
| And Death for surest hope of life. | 20 |
| To-day and here the fight ’s begun, | |
| Of the great fellowship you’re free; | |
| Henceforth the School and you are one, | |
| And what You are, the race shall be. | |
| |
| God send you fortune: yet be sure, | 25 |
| Among the lights that gleam and pass, | |
| You’ll live to follow none more pure | |
| Than that which glows on yonder brass: | |
| ‘Qui procul hinc,’ the legend ’s writ,— | |
| The frontier-grave is far away— | 30 |
| ‘Qui ante diem periit: | |
| Sed miles, sed pro patria.’ | |
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