Page images


Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them

Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.


When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wonder'd.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred !




UPLIFT a thousand voices full and sweet,

In this wide hall with earth's invention stored, And praise the invisible universal Lord,

Who lets once more in peace the nations meet, Where Science, Art, and Labour have outpour'd

Their myriad horns of plenty at our feet.


O silent father of our Kings to be
Mourn'd in this golden hour of jubilee,

For this, for all, we weep our thanks to thee!


The world-compelling plan was thine,—

And, lo! the long laborious miles

Of Palace; lo! the giant aisles,

Rich in model and design;

Harvest-tool and husbandry,

Loom and wheel and enginery,
Secrets of the sullen mine,

Steel and gold, and corn and wine,
Fabric rough, or fairy-fine,

Sunny tokens of the Line,

Polar marvels, and a feast

Of wonder, out of West and East,
And shapes and hues of Art divine!
All of beauty, all of use,

That one fair planet can produce,
Brought from under every star,
Blown from over every main,
And mixt, as life is mixt with pain,
The works of peace with works of war.


Is the goal so far away?

Far, how far no tongue can say,
Let us dream our dream to-day.

[ocr errors]

ye, the wise who think, the wise who reign, From growing commerce loose her latest chain, And let the fair white-wing'd peacemaker fly To happy havens under all the sky,

And mix the seasons and the golden hours;

Till each man find his own in all men's good, And all men work in noble brotherhood, Breaking their mailed fleets and armed towers, And ruling by obeying Nature's powers,

And gathering all the fruits of earth and crown'd with all her flowers.


MARCH 7, 1863

SEA-KINGS' daughter from over the sea,


Saxon and Norman and Dane are we,
But all of us Danes in our welcome of thee,

Welcome her, thunders of fort and of fleet!
Welcome her, thundering cheer of the street!
Welcome her, all things youthful and sweet,
Scatter the blossom under her feet!
Break, happy land, into earlier flowers!

Make music, O bird, in the new-budded bowers!
Blazon your mottoes of blessing and prayer!
Welcome her, welcome her, all that is ours!
Warble, O bugle, and trumpet, blare !
Flags, flutter out upon turrets and towers!
Flames, on the windy headland flare !
Utter your jubilee, steeple and spire!
Clash, ye bells, in the merry March air!
Flash, ye cities, in rivers of fire!

Rush to the roof, sudden rocket, and higher
Melt into stars for the land's desire!


« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »