A Treasury of South African Poetry and Verse/J. G.
EMPIRE DAY.
(MAY 24TH.)
Love we our Motherland,
The Eden home of mighty realms to be,
The nation-teeming isle;
Despite her scowling strand,
She wears the soaring glance, the victor's smile—
Radiant, storm-ridden, as the meteor free,
An opal dawn set in a night of sea.
World-warder fitly laid
Upon the azure margin of the earth,
Amid the wave's wide swirl,
Amid the tempest's raid,
For civic right and manhood's worth
To testify thro' Time's tempestuous whirl,
She sped the vital spark whose kindling ray
Clove the long night that broke to Freedom's day.
Firm rides the anchored barque,
With iron grip defying wind and wave,
Safeguarding all within;
Above, the storm hangs dark,
Around, the seething waters rage;
Fearless she meets the elemental din;
Fearless they rest who braved the tempest's power,
Contrasting present peace with danger's hour.
Deep calleth unto deep;
In happy unison the waters roll
About the channelled earth;
Beneath the sun-scorched steep,
Around the ice-embattled Pole,
They chant one anthem from creation's birth,
Still testifying—to the eternal sun:
"For power and for glory we are one."
Firm-rooted thrives the oak;
In goodly fellowship its parts endure,
Each minister to each;
From lashing—tempest's stroke
In winter's icy grasp secure,
Still eloquent the genial law to teach—
"So sun and cloud their timely succour give,
In loyal brotherhood we stand and live."
So may our England stand,
Fruitful, strong-rooted, fair in branch and stem,
A full and perfect whole;
Such as assailing hand
May not provoke or dare contemn,
Or foul the calm that marks her mild control;
With one strong will confronting all mischance,—
Her peace sure warrant for the world's advance.
For strong and staunch and true,
Strongest in peril, true to loftiest ends,
For freedom and for right,
She the world's champion grew,
And still the freeman's cause defends;
While all the storied Past's resplendent night,
'Mid thrilling echoes of the world's acclaim,
Glows with the starry wonder of her fame.
Such heritage is ours,
A royal lineage, a knightly trust,
A world-enthralling name:
She that so richly dowers
Her children, bids them but be just
And true and steadfast to the parent's fame,
Keeping enshrined, whatever chance betide,
Old England's glory in her children's pride.
Prize we that golden life,
The woven web of splendid memories,
The legend glory-lit;
In deeds of valiant strife,
In amplest fruit of highest enterprise,
In heaven-blest energies the word is writ;
For worthy sons who guard her high renown
Full worthy she to wear the Imperial crown.
IN MEMORIAM.
(ALFRED TENNYSON, obit 1892.)
Farewell, great bard, a glorious memory now—
For all who knew thy spell,
The circling Moon upon thy dark'ning brow
Laid fit farewell.
Rightly thou would'st that no unseemly tears
Should mar thy closing day—
The laurelled victor 'mid acclaiming cheers
Should pass away.
More fit the note of praise, the reverent boast,
To sound his passing knell,
Who sang of all we love and cherish most,
And sang so well:
Who filled a nation's heart with quickening fire
Of white-robed Virtue's lore,
Who wrought sweet music from his Saxon lyre,
Unheard before:
Who drew our footsteps to the shining heights
Above earth's misty zone,
Where shafts break ever from the crystal lights
About the Throne:
Who weighed in faithful scales the knightly mood,
Set true for peace or strife,
The jewel worth of gracious womanhood,
Man's light of life:
Who loved his land with passion high and just,
Nor feared, whate'er should fail,
That she, who bears the great world's sacred trust,
Would still prevail.
Farewell, the banner of thy country's pride
Enshrouds thy mortal frame.
In grateful hearts of myriads shall abide
Thy deathless name.