Collected Poems 1897 - 1907, by Henry Newbolt Part 6

Clifton Chapel

This is the Chapel: here, my son, Your father thought the thoughts of youth, And heard the words that one by one The touch of Life has turned to truth.

Here in a day that is not far, You too may speak with n.o.ble ghosts Of manhood and the vows of war You made before the Lord of Hosts.

To set the cause above renown, To love the game beyond the prize, To honour, while you strike him down, The foe that comes with fearless eyes; To count the life of battle good, And dear the land that gave you birth, And dearer yet the brotherhood That binds the brave of all the earth---

My son, the oath is yours: the end Is His, Who built the world of strife, Who gave His children Pain for friend, And Death for surest hope of life.

To-day and here the fight's begun, Of the great fellowship you're free; Henceforth the School and you are one, And what You are, the race shall be.

G.o.d send you fortune: yet be sure, Among the lights that gleam and pa.s.s, You'll live to follow none more pure Than that which glows on yonder bra.s.s: "Qui procul hinc," the legend's writ,--- The frontier-grave is far away--- "Qui ante diem periit: Sed miles, sed pro patria."

Vita Lampada

There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night--- Ten to make and the match to win--- A b.u.mping pitch and a blinding light, An hour to play and the last man in.

And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat, Or the selfish hope of a season's fame, But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote--- "Play up! play up! and play the game!"

The sand of the desert is sodden red,--- Red with the wreck of a square that broke;--- The Gatling's jammed and the colonel dead, And the regiment blind with dust and smoke.

The river of death has brimmed his banks, And England's far, and Honour a name, But the voice of schoolboy rallies the ranks, "Play up! play up! and play the game!"

This is the word that year by year, While in her place the School is set, Every one of her sons must hear, And none that hears it dare forget.

This they all with a joyful mind Bear through life like a torch in flame, And falling fling to the host behind--- "Play up! play up! and play the game!"

The Vigil

England! where the sacred flame Burns before the inmost shrine, Where the lips that love thy name Consecrate their hopes and thine, Where the banners of thy dead Weave their shadows overhead, Watch beside thine arms to-night, Pray that G.o.d defend the Right.

Think that when to-morrow comes War shall claim command of all, Thou must hear the roll of drums, Thou must hear the trumpet's call.

Now, before they silence ruth, Commune with the voice of truth; England! on thy knees to-night Pray that G.o.d defend the Right.

Hast thou counted up the cost, What to foeman, what to friend?

Glory sought is Honour lost, How should this be knighthood's end?

Know'st thou what is Hatred's meed?

What the surest gain of greed?

England! wilt thou dare to-night Pray that G.o.d defend the Right.

Single-hearted, unafraid, Hither all thy heroes came, On this altar's steps were laid Gordon's life and Outram's fame.

England! if thy will be yet By their great example set, Here beside thine arms to-night Pray that G.o.d defend the Right.

So shalt thou when morning comes Rise to conquer or to fall, Joyful hear the rolling drums, Joyful hear the trumpets call, Then let Memory tell thy heart: "England! what thou wert, thou art!"

Gird thee with thine ancient might, Forth! and G.o.d defend the Right!

The Sailing Of The Long-Ships

(October, 1899)

They saw the cables loosened, they saw the gangways cleared, They heard the women weeping, they heard the men that cheered; Far off, far off, the tumult faded and died away, And all alone the sea-wind came singing up the Bay.

"I came by Cape St. Vincent, I came by Trafalgar, I swept from Torres Vedras to golden Vigo Bar, I saw the beacons blazing that fired the world with light When down their ancient highway your fathers pa.s.sed to fight.

"O race of tireless fighters, flushed with a youth renewed, Right well the wars of Freedom befit the Sea-kings' brood; Yet as ye go forget not the fame of yonder sh.o.r.e, The fame ye owe your fathers and the old time before.

"Long-suffering were the Sea-kings, they were not swift to kill, But when the sands had fallen they waited no man's will; Though all the world forbade them, they counted not nor cared, They weighed not help or hindrance, they did the thing they dared.

"The Sea-kings loved not boasting, they cursed not him that cursed, They honoured all men duly, and him that faced them, first; They strove and knew not hatred, they smote and toiled to save, They tended whom they vanquished, they praised the fallen brave.

"Their fame's on Torres Vedras, their fame's on Vigo Bar, Far-flashed to Cape St. Vincent it burns from Trafalgar; Mark as ye go the beacons that woke the world with light When down their ancient highway your fathers pa.s.sed to fight."

Waggon Hill

Drake in the North Sea grimly prowling, Treading his dear _Revenge's_ deck, Watched, with the sea-dogs round him growling, Galleons drifting wreck by wreck.

"Fetter and Faith for England's neck, f.a.ggot and Father, Saint and chain,--- Yonder the Devil and all go howling, Devon, O Devon, in wind and rain!

Drake at the last off Nombre lying, Knowing the night that toward him crept, Gave to the sea-dogs round him crying, This for a sign before he slept:--- "Pride of the West! What Devon hath kept Devon shall keep on tide or main; Call to the storm and drive them flying, Devon, O Devon, in wind and rain!"

Valour of England gaunt and whitening, Far in a South land brought to bay, Locked in a death-grip all day tightening, Waited the end in twilight gray.

Battle and storm and the sea-dog's way!

Drake from his long rest turned again, Victory lit thy steel with lightning, Devon, o Devon, in wind and rain!

The Volunteer

"He leapt to arms unbidden, Unneeded, over-bold; His face by earth is hidden, His heart in earth is cold.

"Curse on the reckless daring That could not wait the call, The proud fantastic bearing That would be first to fall!"

O tears of human pa.s.sion, Blur not the image true; This was not folly's fashion, This was the man we knew.