Page:Poems Cook.djvu/79

For the lion spirits that tread the deck
 Have carried the palm of the brave;
And that flag may sink with a shot-torn wreck,
 But never float over a slave.
Its honour is stainless, deny it who can;
And this is the flag of an Englishman.

There's a heart that leaps with burning glow,
 The wrong'd and the weak to defend;
And strikes as soon for a trampled foe,
 As it does for a soul-bound friend.
It nurtures a deep and honest love,
 It glows with faith and pride,
And yearns with the fondness of a dove
 To the light of its own fireside.
'Tis a rich, rough gem, deny it who can;
And this is the heart of an Englishman.

The Briton may traverse the pole or the zone,
 And boldly claim his right;
For he calls such a vast domain his own,
 That the sun never sets on his might.
Let the haughty stranger seek to know
 The place of his home and birth;
And a flush will pour from cheek to brow,
 While he tells his native earth.
For a glorious charter, deny it who can,
Is breathed in the words—"I'm an Englishman."

 

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