As Roland on a coward who could flinch;
And, after chloroform and ether-gas,
We find out slowly what the bee and finch
Have ready found, through Nature's lamp in each,—
How to our races we may justify
Our individual claims, and, as we reach
Our own grapes, bend the top vines to supply
The children's uses: how to fill a breach
With olive branches; how to quench a lie
With truth, and smite a foe upon the cheek
With Christ's most conquering kiss! why, these are things
Worth a great nation's finding, to prove weak
The "glorious arms" of military kings!
And so with wide embrace, my England, seek
To stifle the bad heat and flickerings
Of this world's false and nearly expended fire!
Draw palpitating arrows to the wood,
And send abroad thy high hopes, and thy higher
Resolves, from that most virtuous altitude,
Till nations shall unconsciously aspire
By looking up to thee, and learn that good
And glory are not different. Announce law
By freedom; exalt chivalry by peace;
Instruct how clear calm eyes can overawe,
And how pure hands, stretched simply to release
A bond-slave, will not need a sword to draw
To be held dreadful. O my England, crease
Thy purple with no alien agonies
Which reach thee through the net of war! No war!
Disband thy captains, change thy victories,
Be henceforth prosperous as the angels are—
Helping, not humbling.
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