Poems and Ballads (Third Series) | Page 5

bear;
XXXIV
Thine annual sign from heaven's own arch?Given of the sun's hand into thine,?To rear and cheer each wildwood shrine?But now laid waste by wild-winged March,?March, mad with wind like wine.
XXXV
From all thy brightening downs whereon?The windy seaward whin-flower shows?Blossom whose pride strikes pale the rose?Forth is the golden watchword gone?Whereat the world's face glows.
XXXVI
Thy quickening woods rejoice and ring?Till earth seems glorious as the sea:?With yearning love too glad for glee?The world's heart quivers toward the spring?As all our hearts toward thee.
XXXVII
Thee, mother, thee, our queen, who givest?Assurance to the heavens most high?And earth whereon her bondsmen sigh?That by the sea's grace while thou livest?Hope shall not wholly die.
XXXVIII
That while thy free folk hold the van?Of all men, and the sea-spray shed?As dew more heavenly on thy head?Keeps bright thy face in sight of man,?Man's pride shall drop not dead.
XXXIX
A pride more pure than humblest prayer,?More wise than wisdom born of doubt,?Girds for thy sake men's hearts about?With trust and triumph that despair?And fear may cast not out.
XL
Despair may wring men's hearts, and fear?Bow down their heads to kiss the dust,?Where patriot memories rot and rust,?And change makes faint a nation's cheer,?And faith yields up her trust.
XLI
Not here this year have true men known,?Not here this year may true men know,?That brand of shame-compelling woe?Which bids but brave men shrink or groan?And lays but honour low.
XLII
The strong spring wind blows notes of praise,?And hallowing pride of heart, and cheer?Unchanging, toward all true men here?Who hold the trust of ancient days?High as of old this year.
XLIII
The days that made thee great are dead;?The days that now must keep thee great?Lie not in keeping of thy fate;?In thine they lie, whose heart and head?Sustain thy charge of state.
XLIV
No state so proud, no pride so just,?The sun, through clouds at sunrise curled?Or clouds across the sunset whirled,?Hath sight of, nor has man such trust?As thine in all the world.
XLV
Each hour that sees the sunset's crest?Make bright thy shores ere day decline?Sees dawn the sun on shores of thine,?Sees west as east and east as west?On thee their sovereign shine.
XLVI
The sea's own heart must needs wax proud?To have borne the world a child like thee.?What birth of earth might ever be?Thy sister? Time, a wandering cloud,?Is sunshine on thy sea.
XLVII
Change mars not her; and thee, our mother,?What change that irks or moves thee mars??What shock that shakes? what chance that jars??Time gave thee, as he gave none other,?A station like a star's.
XLVIII
The storm that shrieks, the wind that wages?War with the wings of hopes that climb?Too high toward heaven in doubt sublime,?Assail not thee, approved of ages?The towering crown of time.
XLIX
Toward thee this year thy children turning?With souls uplift of changeless cheer?Salute with love that casts out fear,?With hearts for beacons round thee burning,?The token of this year.
L
With just and sacred jubilation?Let earth sound answer to the sea?For witness, blown on winds as free,?How England, how her crowning nation,?Acclaims this jubilee.
THE ARMADA
1588: 1888
I
I
England, mother born of seamen, daughter fostered of the sea, Mother more beloved than all who bear not all their children free, Reared and nursed and crowned and cherished by the sea-wind and
the sun,?Sweetest land and strongest, face most fair and mightiest heart
in one,?Stands not higher than when the centuries known of earth were less
by three,?When the strength that struck the whole world pale fell back from
hers undone.
II
At her feet were the heads of her foes bowed down, and the
strengths of the storm of them stayed,?And the hearts that were touched not with mercy with terror were
touched and amazed and affrayed:?Yea, hearts that had never been molten with pity were molten with
fear as with flame,?And the priests of the Godhead whose temple is hell, and his heart
is of iron and fire,?And the swordsmen that served and the seamen that sped them, whom
peril could tame not or tire,?Were as foam on the winds of the waters of England which tempest
can tire not or tame.
III
They were girded about with thunder, and lightning came forth of
the rage of their strength,?And the measure that measures the wings of the storm was the
breadth of their force and the length:?And the name of their might was Invincible, covered and clothed
with the terror of God;?With his wrath were they winged, with his love were they fired,
with the speed of his winds were they shod;?With his soul were they filled, in his trust were they comforted:
grace was upon them as night,?And faith as the blackness of darkness: the fume of their balefires
was fair in his sight,?The reek of them sweet as a savour of myrrh in his nostrils: the
world that he made,?Theirs was it by gift of his servants: the wind, if they spake in
his name, was afraid,?And the sun was a shadow before it, the stars were astonished with
fear of it: fire?Went up to them, fed with men living,