26 DECEMBER 1914, Page 15


I wield the strength of the chosen race, My breath makes Kingdoms to fall and stand ; I have moved my landmarks a goodly space, And won fair realms from the stranger's hand.

I have driven the 'Welsh' with spear and sword In the cause of God and my people's gain, That German tongues may sing to the Lord In the fields of Alsace and fair Lorraine.

On my right stands Bismarck to do my will With steel in his words and blood on his pen, On my left sits Moltke calm and still Weaving his nets with meshes of men.

Am I not lord in the day of wrath To smite my foes with a holy rod? Who shall blaspheme or bar my path? Is not my sword as the sword of God?


O King of the proud and patient folk, When you rose in power to guard your Rhine, And smote the tyrant with stroke on stroke, The sword was yours, but the edge was mine.

Can I sell my children to serve your will: Shall they bow their necks to a yoke again ? Of plunder your nets may take their fill, But the meshes are wide for the souls of men.

Though you burn with the and sow with salt All fenced cities from Rhine to Seine, Is France the soil where your armies halt? Nay France is mine, and your thought is vain.

The sunbeams are broken and dashed in spray Till the waves are spent and the storm is done. Lo, saith the wind, how I rule the day ! Lo how my fury bath quenched the sun!

The music of sun and stars in their path Is fuller than storm wind and beat of drum, For you the darkness and day of wrath : The light is mine and the reign to come."