Earth's compass round; go The Sun's eye had a sickly glare, Still rusted in their bony hands; In plague and famine some! Earth's cities had no sound nor tread, And ships were drifting with the dead To shores where all was dumb! Yet, prophet-like, that lone one stood, With dauntless words and high, That shook the sere leaves from the wood As if a storm passed by, Saying, "We are twins in death, proud Sun, Thy face is cold, thy race is run, "What though beneath thee man put forth His pomp, his pride, his skill; And arts that made fire, flood, and earth, The vassals of the will? Yet mourn I not thy parted sway, Thou dim discrowned king of day; For all these trophied arts And your high priesthood shall make And triumphs that beneath thee earth "My lips that speak thy dirge of death Their rounded gasp and gurgling breath To see thou shalt not boast. Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell, The eclipse of Nature spreads my And the stormy winds do blow. pall, And ocean was their grave; Britannia needs no bulwarks, Her march is o'er the mountainwaves, Her home is on the deep. The meteor flag of England HOW DELICIOUS IS THE WIN- How delicious is the winning Yet, remember, 'midst your wooing, Love he comes, and Love he tarries, Bind the sea to slumber stilly, Bind its odor to the lily, For the deck it was their field of fame, Bind the aspen ne'er to quiver, Then bind Love to last for ever! |