POETRY.
10 TRIUMPHE!
ENGLAND, Mother of Nations, bids her children rejoice, Hark ! from the ends of the earth peals forth their answering voice:
"Severed by shadowy mountains, and many a sounding sea, One in race and language, and one in heart are we, Ready to face a world in arms if it needs must be."
Queen that hest borne the weight of the crown from girlhood's days, Winning the love of thy people, winning the whole earth's praise, Each of the sixty years is a year of Jubilee, Sun breaking in on the darkness, wrong righted, the slave set free.
Thank we the Giver of all good things who gave us Thee.
Thou bast wept with those that weep, and thy heart has throbbed with pride, At each tale of derring do : the wild Balaclava ride, Lncknow's Lawrence, Delhi's Nicholson, Gordon's fall,— England's heroes ! long were the count to name them all, Champions of England, worthy of her, and worthy of Thee.
Wilson's troopers at bay on the far Shangani strand, Praised by their savage foe, who told how band in hand, Spent by the hopeless fight, but with still undaunted mien, They rose and sang as they died: "God Save our Gracious Queen ! "
Champions of England, worthy of her, and worthy of Thee.
Soldiers ranged in their ranks on the 'Birkenhead's' reeling deck, Watching the ravening monsters swarming around the wreck, Where shall we match their story ? Talk not of days of old! These are the deeds of our brothers to-day, to be writ in gold. Champions of England, worthy of her, and worthy of Thee.
Shaftesbury's long life given that children no longer pine, Dazed by the whirring wheels, dulled in the gloom of the mule; Cobden who fed the poor ; toilers with heart and brain, Doctor, and nurse, and preacher, fighting squalor and pain. Workers for England, worthy of her, and worthy of Thee.
Thou haat trodden the paths of greatness, thy robe unspotted still, Thou haat tasted life's cup of blessing, haat tasted life's cup of ill, Filled with the praise of thy name the sixty years have been, Scarce we know if we honour thee more as Woman or Queen. Thank we the Giver of all good things who gave us Thee. Large is our hope that the riddle of earth may yet be read, Misery, vice, and crime be seared on each hydra head, And life be brightened for all, and man to man be true, And clouds be rifted apart, and the smile of God shine through, Thank we the Giver of all good things who gave us Thee.
H. T. R.
Previous page
