POEMS OF LOYALTY AND PATRIOTISM CONCORD HYMN * SUNG AT THE COMPLETION OF THE BATTLE MONUMENT, By the rude bridge that arched the flood, The foe long since in silence slept; Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; And Time the ruined bridge has swept Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. On this green bank, by this soft stream, Spirit, that made those heroes dare To die, and leave their children free, R. W. Emerson. * By permission of Houghton Mifflin Company. 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 The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave For the deck it was their field of fame, Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell While 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 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, T. Campbell. PRO PATRIA MORI WHEN he who adores thee has left but the name Of his fault and his sorrows behind, Oh! say wilt thou weep, when they darken the fame Yes, weep, and however my foes may condemn, For, Heaven can witness, though guilty to them, With thee were the dreams of my earliest love; In my last humble prayer to the Spirit above Oh! blest are the lovers and friends who shall live The days of thy glory to see; But the next dearest blessing that Heaven can give Is the pride of thus dying for thee. T. Moore. BANNOCKBURN: ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY SCOTS, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, Or to Victorie. Now's the day, and now's the hour; See approach proud Edward's power— Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha' for Scotland's King and Law, By Oppression's woes and pains! Lay the proud Usurpers low! R. Burns. HOME-THOUGHTS, FROM ABROAD OH, to be in England Now that April's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware, That the lowest boughs and the brush-wood sheaf While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough And after April, when May follows, And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows! The first fine careless rapture! And though the fields look rough with hoary dew, R. Browning. HOME-THOUGHTS, FROM THE SEA NOBLY, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the Northwest died away; Sunset ran, one glorious blood-red, reeking into Cadiz Bay; Bluish 'mid the burning water, full in face Trafalgar lay; In the dimmest Northeast distance dawned Gibraltar grand and gray; |