“No one wishes the storm to roll here—­
      No one cares such a devil to raise,—­
    And in brotherhood, not in fear,
      Only for peace an Englishman prays,—­
    Yet he may shout in the midst of the rout,
      Our rifles are ready—­look out!

    “Keep to your own, like an honest man,
      And here’s our hand, and here’s our heart,
    Let the world see how wisely you can
      Play to the end a right neighbourly part,—­
    But if mischief is creeping about,
    Our rifles are ready—­look out!

    “No defiance is on our lips,
      Nothing but kindliness greets you here;
    Still, in the storm our dolphin ships
      Round the Eddystone dart and steer,—­
    And on shore—­no doubt, no doubt—­
    Our rifles are ready—­look out!

    “Not Defiance, but only Defence,
      Hold we forth for humanity’s sake,—­
    And, with the help of Omnipotence,
      We shall stand when the mountains quake: 
    Only in Him our hearts are stout;
    Our rifles are ready—­look out!”

    A Rhyme for Albury Club.

    “A rhyme for the Club, for the brave little Club
      That stoutly went forward when others held back,
    And, reckless of many a sneer and a snub,
      Steer’d manfully straight upon Duty’s own tack,—­
    Though quarrelsome peacemongers did their small worst,
      In spite of their tongues and in spite of their teeth,
    We stood up for England among the few first,
      With rifles and targets on Surrey Blackheath!

    “Time was when Tom Wydeawake, ten years agone,
      Toil’d to arouse dull old Britain betimes,
    By example—­he shouldered his rifle alone,
      By precept—­he showered his letters and rhymes,—­
    With bullets he peppered old Sherborne’s hillside,
      With ballads and articles worried the Press,—­
    The more he was sneer’d at, the stronger he tried,
      And would not be satisfied short of Success.

    “And now is his Fancy the front of the van,
      And England an archer, as in the past years,
    And stout middle age carries arms like a man,
      And all the young fellows are smart Volunteers: 
    And Herbert, and Elcho, and Spencer, and Hay,
      And Mildmay, and all the best names in the land
    On a national scale achieve grandly to-day
      What Wydeawake schemed with his brave little band!

    “Then cheers for the Queen! for the Club! and the Corps! 
      For Grantley, and Evelyn, and Sidmouth, and all;
    With Franklin, and Mangles, and six dozen more,
      The first to spring forth at Britannia’s call! 
    And long may we live with all peaceably here—­
      For olive, not laurel, is Glory’s true wreath—­
    But if the wolf comes, he had better keep clear
      Of a Club of crack shots upon Surrey Blackheath!”