Nor palter'd with Eternal God for power; Who let the turbid streams of rumor flow Thro' either babbling world of high and low; Whose life was work, whose language rife With rugged maxims hewn from life; Who never spoke against a foe; Whose eighty winters freeze with one rebuke All great self-seekers trampling on the right. Truth-teller was our England's Alfred named; Truth-lover was our English Duke! VIII Lo! the leader in these glorious wars But as he saves or serves the state. won His path upward, and prevail'd, Shall find the toppling crags of Duty scaled And keep the soldier firm, the statesman pure; Till in all lands and thro' all human story For many and many an age proclaim Once the weight and fate of Europe hung. As befits a solemn fane: Uplifted high in heart and hope are we, For tho' the Giant Ages heave the hill Round us, each with different powers, The dark crowd moves, and there are sobs and tears; The black earth yawns; the mortal disappears; Ashes to ashes, dust to dust; He is gone who seem'd so great.- TO THE QUEEN ALFRED TENNYSON [Epilogue, Idylls of the King] O loyal to the royal in thyself, Who scarce had pluck'd his flickering life again From halfway down the shadow of the grave, Past with thee thro' thy people and their love, And London roll'd one tide of joy thro' all Her trebled millions, and loud leagues of man And welcome! witness, too, the silent cry, The prayer of many a race and creed, and clime Thunderless lightnings striking under sea From sunset and sunrise of all thy realm, And that true North, whereof we lately heard A strain to shame us "keep you to yourselves; So loyal is too costly! friends-your love Is but a burthen: loose the bond, and go." Is this the tone of empire? here the faith That made us rulers? this, indeed, her voice And meaning, whom the roar of Hougou mont Left mightiest of all peoples under heaven? What shock has fool'd her since, that she should speak So feebly? wealthier-wealthier-hour by hour! The voice of Britain, or a sinking land, Some third-rate isle half-lost among her seas? There rang her voice, when the full city peal'd Thee and thy Prince! The loyal to their erown Are loyal to their own far sons, who love Our ocean-empire with her boundless homes For ever-broadening England, and her throne In our vast Orient, and one isle, one isle, That knows not her own greatness: if she knows And dreads it we are fall'n.-But thou, my Not for itself, but thro' thy living love Sacred, accept this old imperfect tale, Soul Rather than that gray king, whose name, a ghost, Streams like a cloud, man-shaped, from mountain peak, And cleaves to cairn and cromlech still; or him Of Geoffrey's book, or him of Malleor's, one Touch'd by the adulterous finger of a time That hover'd between war and wantonness, And crownings and dethronements: take withal Thy poet's blessing, and his trust that Heaven Will blow the tempest in the distance back From thine and ours: for some are scared, who mark, Or wisely or unwisely, signs of storm, And that which knows, but careful for itself, And that which knows not, ruling that which knows To its own harm: the goal of this great world Lies beyond sight: yet-if our slowly-grown And crown'd Republic's crowning common sense, That saved her many times, not fail-their fears Are morning shadows huger than the shapes That cast them, not those gloomier which forego The darkness of that battle in the West, Where all of high and holy dies away. (1873) A SONG IN TIME OF ORDER (1852) ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE Push hard across the sand, For the salt wind gathers breath; Shoulder and wrist and hand, Push hard as the push of death. The wind is as iron that rings, The foam-heads loosen and flee; It swells and welters and swings, The pulse of the tide of the sea. And up on the yellow cliff The long corn flickers and shakes; Push, for the wind holds stiff, And the gunwale dips and rakes. Good hap to the fresh fierce weather, The quiver and beat of the sea! While three men hold together The kingdoms are less by three. Out to the sea with her there, Out with her over the sand, Let the kings keep the earth for their share We have done with the sharers of land. They have tied the world in a tether, They have bought over God with a fee; While three men hold together, The kingdoms are less by three. We have done with the kisses that sting, Will they tie the winds in a tether, Put a bit in the jaws of the sea? While three men hold together, The kingdoms are less by three. Let our flag run out straight in the wind! The old red shall be floated again When the ranks that are thin shall be thinned, When the names that were twenty are ten; When the devil's riddle is mastered And the galley-bench creaks with a Pope, We shall see Buonaparte the bastard Kick heels with his throat in a rope. While the shepherd sets wolves on his sheep Let the wind shake our flag like a feather, Like the plumes of the foam of the sea! While three men hold together, The kingdoms are less by three. All the world has its burdens to bear, From Cayenne to the Austrian whips; Forth, with the rain in our hair In the teeth of the hard glad weather, AN APPEAL ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE Art thou indeed among these, Nay, thy name from of old, A praise so sweet in our ears, Poured forth for the triumph of kings; Strangers came gladly to thee, Safe for thy sake in thy shade, Not for revenge or affright, Cast from thee the crown of thy praise. How should one charge thee, how sway, But a word from republican lips Hast thou said it, and hast thou forgot! Was it not said of thee too, This was thy praise or thy blame Now if thou be not, thy waves Freeman he is not, but slave, Lo! how fair from afar, Be not as tyrant or slave, RECESSIONAL (1897) RUDYARD KIPLING God of our fathers, known of old— Lord of our far-flung battle lineBeneath whose awful hand we hold DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI God said, Let there be light! and there was light. Then heard we sounds as though the Earth did sing And the Earth's angel cried upon the wing: We saw priests fall together and turn white: And covered in the dust from the sun's sight, A king was spied, and yet another king. We said: "The round world keeps its balancing: On this globe, they and we are opposite,If it is day with us, with them 't is night. Still, Man, in thy just pride, remember this: Thou hadst not made that thy sons' sons shall ask What the word king may mean in their day's task, But for the light that led: and if light is, It is because God said, Let there be light." SAY NOT THe Struggle NOUGHT AVAILETH ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH Say not the struggle nought availeth, If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars; It may be, in yon smoke concealed, Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers, For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, And not by eastern windows only, When daylight comes, comes in the light, In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly, But westward, look, the land is bright. (1849) THE ITALIAN IN ENGLAND ROBERT BROWNING That second time they hunted me Where I and Charles, when boys, have plucked The fire-flies from the roof above, Six days the soldiers crossed and crossed |