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I turn, and meet the cruel, turbaned face.
England! 'tis sweet to be so much thy son!
I feel the conqueror in my blood and race;
Last night Trafalgar awed me, and to-day
Gibraltar wakened; hark, thy evening gun
Startles the desert over Africa!

II

Thou art the rock of empire, set mid-seas
Between the East and West, that God has built;
Advance thy Roman borders where thou wilt,
While run thy armies true with His decrees;
Law, justice, liberty,-great gifts are these;

Watch that they spread where English blood is spilt,
Lest, mixed and sullied with his country's guilt,
The soldier's life-stream flow, and Heaven displease!
Two swords there are: one naked, apt to smite,
Thy blade of war; and, battle-storied, one
Rejoices in the sheath, and hides from light.
American I am; would wars were done!

Now westward, look, my country bids good-night,— Peace to the world from ports without a gun! George Edward Woodberry [1855

MOTHER ENGLAND

I

THERE was a rover from a western shore,
England! whose eyes the sudden tears did drown,
Beholding the white cliff and sunny down
Of thy good realm, beyond the sea's uproar.
I, for a moment, dreamed that, long before,
I had beheld them thus, when, with the frown
Of sovereignty, the victor's palm and crown
Thou from the tilting-field of nations bore.
Thy prowess and thy glory dazzled first;
But when in fields I saw the tender flame
Of primroses, and full-fleeced lambs at play,
Meseemed I at thy breast, like these, was nursed;

Then mother-Mother England!-home I came Like one who hath been all too long, away!

II

As nestling at thy feet in peace I lay,

A thought awoke and restless stirred in me:
"My land and congeners are beyond the sea,
Theirs is the morning and the evening day.
Wilt thou give ear while this of them I say:-
'Haughty art thou, and they are bold and free,
As well befits who have descent from thee,
And who have trodden brave the forlorn way.
Children of thine, but grown to strong estate;
Nor scorn from thee would they be slow to pay,
Nor check from thee submissly would they bear;
Yet, Mother England! yet their hearts are great,
And if for thee should dawn some darkest day,
At cry of thine, how proudly would they dare!""
Edith M. Thomas [1854-

"GOD SAVE THE KING"

GOD save our gracious King,
Long live our noble King,

God save the King!

Send him victorious,

Happy and glorious,

Long to reign over us,
God save the King!

O Lord our God, arise,
Scatter his enemies,

And make them fall.

Confound their politics,

Frustrate their knavish tricks;
On Thee our hearts we fix,

God save us all!

Thy choicest gifts in store,
On him be pleased to pour,
Long may he reign.
May he defend our laws,
And ever give us cause,

To sing with heart and voice,

God save the King!

Henry Carey (?) [ ?-1743]

RULE, BRITANNIA

From "Alfred "

WHEN Britain first, at Heaven's command,

Arose from out the azure main,

This was the charter of the land,

And guardian angels sung the strain:
Rule, Britannia, rule the waves,

Britons never will be slaves.

The nations not so blest as thee

Must, in their turns, to tyrants fall, Whilst thou shalt flourish, great and free, The dread and envy of them all.

Still more majestic shalt thou rise,

More dreadful from each foreign stroke; As the loud blast that tears the skies Serves but to root thy native oak.

Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame;
All their attempts to bend thee down
Will but arouse thy generous flame,

But work their woe, and thy renown.

To thee belongs the rural reign;

Thy cities shall with commerce shine;
All thine shall be the subject main,
And every shore it circles, thine.

The Muses, still with Freedom found,
Shall to thy happy coast repair:

Blest Isle! with matchless beauty crowned,
And manly hearts to guard the fair.
Rule, Britannia, rule the waves,

Britons never will be slaves.

James Thomson (1700-1748]

"YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND"

YE Mariners of England

That guard our native seas!

Whose flag has braved, a thousand years,
The battle and the breeze!

Your glorious standard launch again

To match another foe;

And sweep through the deep,

While the stormy winds do blow! While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.

The spirits of your fathers

Shall start from every wave!—
For the deck it was their field of fame,
And Ocean was their grave:
Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell
Your manly hearts shall glow,
As ye sweep through the deep,
While the stormy winds do blow!
While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow.

Britannia needs no bulwarks,

No towers along the steep;

Her march is o'er the mountain-waves,
Her home is on the deep.

With thunders from her native oak

She quells the floods below,

As they roar on the shore,

When the stormy winds do blow!
When the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow.

The meteor flag of England

Shall yet terrific burn;

Till danger's troubled night depart
And the star of peace return.
Then, then, ye ocean-warriors!
Our song and feast shall flow
To the fame of your name,

When the storm has ceased to blow!
When the fiery fight is heard no more,
And the storm has ceased to blow.

Thomas Campbell [1777-1844]

"READY, AY, READY

OLD England's sons are English yet,
Old England's hearts are strong;
And still she wears her coronet

Aflame with sword and song.

As in their pride our fathers died,
If need be, so die we;

So wield we still, gainsay who will,

The sceptre of the sea.

England, stand fast; let heart and hand be steady; Be thy first word thy last,-Ready, ay, ready!

We've Raleighs still for Raleigh's part,

We've Nelsons yet unknown;

The pulses of the Lion Heart

Beat on through Wellington.

Hold, Britain, hold thy creed of old,

Strong foe and steadfast friend,

And, still unto thy motto true,

Defy not, but defend.

England, stand fast; let heart and hand be steady; Be thy first word thy last,-Ready, ay, ready!

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