Page:Ode on the stability of the British Empire, written on the occasion of the coronation of King Edward the Seventh.djvu/12

The red cross of old England, there doth lie;
King Henry, who at Agincourt amain
Upon the hosts of France triumphant rushed.
And through her ranks with England's bravest
pressed,
Within Westminster long has lain at rest;
Elizabeth, who stifled in her breast
Compassion, and unhappy Mary crushed.
Is lying there beside her, both their voices hushed.

The place is sacred! There doth lie the dust
Of bards by whom the nation's deeds were sung;
The place is sacred! Men who won the trust
Of England, and her cause with burning tongue
Espoused, are lying there. The honoured dead
Of all the British realm are there interred;
Their tongues are silent, but they still are heard;
Though low at rest doth lie each sleeping head,
Their words the souls of millions still inspire;
They tread the earth no longer, but their clear,
Heart-stirring voices countless thousands hear;
Their souls are with us; still their thoughts career
Throughout the earth, as when, with thoughts on fire.
They struck inspiring notes upon their country's lyre.

Within Westminster, as in ages past,
Are gathering the leaders of our race;
From all the wide-spread nations that the vast
And mighty British Empire doth embrace.
Come leaders of the people to behold
The monarch crowned, as, for a thousand years,
Has been the wont of England's loyal peers.
As was King David, in the days of old,
Anointed, so does every British king
Receive anointment; centuries have gone
Since England's ancient crown was placed upon
King Edward the Confessor; yet anon
The selfsame rites will to the present bring
The past. O British race, thou art no fickle thing!

Ye British nations, Heaven glorify!
Exalt your voices fervently in praise!
The lot of earthly things is but to die,
And naught but Heaven's power ever stays
The hand of dread Destruction in its course;