FRANCE* BY RUDYARD KIPLING

Broke to every known mischance, lifted over
      all
By the light sane joy of life, the buckler of
      the Gaul,
Furious in luxury, merciless in toil,
Terrible with strength that draws from her
      tireless soil,
Strictest judge of her own worth, gentlest of
      men’s mind,
First to follow truth and last to leave old
      truths behind—­
France beloved of every soul that loves its
      fellow-kind.

Ere our birth (rememberest thou?) side
      by side we lay
Fretting in the womb of Rome to begin
      the fray. 
Ere men knew our tongues apart, our one
      taste was known—­
Each must mould the other’s fate as he
      wrought his own. 
To this end we stirred mankind till all
      earth was ours,
Till our world-end strifes began wayside
      thrones and powers,
Puppets that we made or broke to bar
      the other’s path—­
Necessary, outpost folk, hirelings of our
      wrath. 
To this end we stormed the seas, tack for
      tack, and burst
Through the doorways of new worlds,
      doubtful which was first. 
Hand on hilt (rememberest thou?), ready
      for the blow. 
Sure whatever else we met we should
      meet our foe. 
Spurred or baulked at ev’ry stride by the
      other’s strength,
So we rode the ages down and every ocean’s
      length;
Where did you refrain from us or we
      refrain from you? 
Ask the wave that has not watched war
      between us two. 
Others held us for a while, but with
      weaker charms,
These we quitted at the call for each
      other’s arms. 
Eager toward the known delight, equally
      we strove,
Each the other’s mystery, terror, need,
      and love. 
To each other’s open court with our
      proofs we came,
Where could we find honour else or men
      to test the claim? 
From each other’s throat we wrenched
      valour’s last reward,
That extorted word of praise gasped
      ’twixt lunge and guard. 
In each other’s cup we poured mingled
      blood and tears,
Brutal joys, unmeasured hopes,
      intolerable fears,
All that soiled or salted life for a thousand
      years. 
Proved beyond the need of proof, matched
      in every clime,
O companion, we have lived greatly
      through all time: 
Yoked in knowledge and remorse now we
      come to rest,
Laughing at old villainies that time has
      turned to jest,
Pardoning old necessity no pardon can
      efface—­
That undying sin we shared in Rouen
      market-place. 
Now we watch the new years shape,
      wondering if they hold
Fiercer lighting in their hearts than we
      launched of old. 
Now we hear new voices rise, question,