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… ! The sun on the marvellous sea ! And the feast of your freedom is ended, O sons of the free ! Your shouts have gone up to remember The day of your oath to the world. Is its flame dwindled down to an ember ? The flag of your liberty furled ? Your limbs are too strong to dismember— In sloth are they curled ? T 27
…has this burden upon her, Your eagle unwilling to fly ! Loose, loose the wide wings ! For your honour ! Let tyranny die ! Remember, this day of your glory, Your fight for the freedom you own. Those years—is their memory hoary ? Your chains—is their memory flown ? * At the hour of passing the proof-sheets, however, the Boers are not yet conquered—nor likely to be ! 29
… desolate Marsh-strand : the herons gaunt still contemplate What was delight, is ruin, may breed love again, Even as darkness breeds the day : when life is slain. * * * * * * * O who will hear my chant, my cry ; my voice who hear, Even in this weary misery, this danker mere, Me, in mine exile, who am driven from yonder mountains Blue-gray, and highland airs of heaven, and moving fountains ? Me, who shall hear me ? Am I lost, a broken vessel, Caught in the storm of lies and tossed, forbid to wrestle ? Shall not the sun rise lively yet, the rose …
…at terrible command ! Their voices mingle in the feeble lay, Their fire impulses the reluctant hand. My words must prophesy the avenging day And curse my native land. How have I loved thee in thy faithlessness Beneath the rule of those unspeakable ! How would I shield thee from this sorceress That holds my words imprisoned in her spell ! I would be silent. And the words obsess My spirit. It is well. O England ! England, mighty England, falls ! None shall lament her lamentable end ! The Voice of Justice thunders at her walls. She would not hear.…
… Not arming all men in an iron mould. Peaceful be thou : with watching and with prayer. But be not overbold. Fall, Austria ! In the very day and hour That reverend head that holds thee in its awe Shall sink in peace, I see thy rotten power Break as the crumbling ice-floe in the thaw. Destruction shatters thy blood-builded tower. Death has thee in his maw. 12
…orified ! O Spirit of Illimitable Light ! O Thou with style and tablet ! Answer me In that dread pomp of Triumph and of Right, The awful day : my witnesses are Ye That I have said in all men’s sound and sight The things that are to be. 17