III

  And now—­methinks I gaze upon thee now,
  As on a serpent in his agonies
  Awestricken Indians; what time laid low
  And crushing the thick fragrant reeds he lies,
  When the new year warm breathed on the earth,
  Waiting to light him with his purple skies,
  Calls to him by the fountain to uprise. 
  Already with the pangs of a new birth
  Strain the hot spheres of his convulsed eyes,
  And in his writhings awful hues begin
  To wander down his sable sheeny sides,
  Like light on troubled waters:  from within
  Anon he rusheth forth with merry din,
  And in him light and joy and strength abides;
  And from his brows a crown of living light
  Looks through the thickstemmed woods by day and night

XX

=English War Song=

Who fears to die?  Who fears to die? 
Is there any here who fears to die
He shall find what he fears, and none shall grieve
For the man who fears to die: 
But the withering scorn of the many shall cleave
To the man who fears to die.

Chorus.—­Shout for England! 
Ho! for England! 
George for England! 
Merry England! 
England for aye!

The hollow at heart shall crouch forlorn,
He shall eat the bread of common scorn;
It shall be steeped in the salt, salt tear,
Shall be steeped in his own salt tear: 
Far better, far better he never were born
Than to shame merry England here.

Chorus.—­Shout for England! etc.

  There standeth our ancient enemy;
  Hark! he shouteth—­the ancient enemy! 
      On the ridge of the hill his banners rise;
      They stream like fire in the skies;
  Hold up the Lion of England on high
      Till it dazzle and blind his eyes.

      Chorus.—­Shout for England! etc.

  Come along! we alone of the earth are free;
  The child in our cradles is bolder than he;
      For where is the heart and strength of slaves? 
      Oh! where is the strength of slaves? 
  He is weak! we are strong; he a slave, we are free;
      Come along! we will dig their graves.

      Chorus.—­Shout for England! etc.

  There standeth our ancient enemy;
  Will he dare to battle with the free? 
      Spur along! spur amain! charge to the fight: 
      Charge! charge to the fight! 
  Hold up the Lion of England on high! 
      Shout for God and our right!

      Chorus.—­Shout for England! etc.

XXI

=National Song=

There is no land like England
Where’er the light of day be;
There are no hearts like English hearts,
Such hearts of oak as they be. 
There is no land like England
Where’er the light of day be;
There are no men like Englishmen,
So tall and bold as they be.