SONS OF BRITANNIA.
1813—1891.
Britannia loquitur:—
From Boston Bay to Thobal fort
Is a far cry, but bravery bridges
The centuries, and of space makes sport.
The shot that swept the salt sea-ridges
When VERE BROKE of the Shannon smote
The foe, and, struck, left WALLIS smiting,—
Sends echoes down the years that float
To Thobal o'er the sounds of fighting.
Memories of greatness make men great!
Brave centenarian, you with pleasure
May greet the youth who guard our State.
You, whose long memories can measure
So wide a sweep of England's war,
Must joy to see her served as boldly
As in those sad mad days afar,
When, gazing on her children coldly,
She alienated kindred hearts,
Which might till now have beaten loyal.
At least you both played well your parts,
Though blunderers blind, official, royal,
May then or now have marred the work
Of arduous years, and gallant spirits,
My sons at least no peril shirk,
Valour from age to age inherits.
The old tradition, duteous stands
For the old Flag, wherever flying!
Brave WALLIS, gallant GRANT, clasp hands!
My sons! Unfaltering, undying,
Beneath grey hairs, or youth's brown locks,
The spirit proud of patriot valour!
Not desperate odds in war's wild shocks
Shall strike its flush to craven pallor.
Mud-fort, or "mealey" bastion, deck
Of shot-torn ship, or red "death-valley,"
What odds? Of danger nought I reck,
Whilst thus my sons to me can rally.
Come what, come will! Whilst centuried age
And youth in Spring strike hands before me,
Let foemen band, let battle rage,
You'll keep my Flag still flying o'er me!
