Death clutching from the clamorous brine, hope beaconing from the brink,
With lifted hands toward the lights that beam but to betray,
Because dull Britons fail to think, or hesitate to pay?
No! With that question a fierce thrill through countless listeners went,
And, hoarse with indignation, rings the answer, "Not Content!"
When the Armada neared our coast in days now dubbed as "dark,"
Pre-scientific Englishmen, whom no Electric Spark
Had witched with its white radiance, yet sped from height to height
Of Albion's long wild sea-coast line the ruddy warning Light.
"Cape beyond Cape, in endless range, those twinkling points of fire"[1]