THE
SONG OF THE FLAG
A National Ode
BY
ERIC MACKAY
Author of "Love Letters of a Violinist," "Vox Amoris," &c.
LONDON
Lamley & Co., Exhibition Road, S.W.
1893.
THE SONG OF THE FLAG.
I.
Up with the country's flag!
And let the winds caress it, fold on fold,—
A stainless flag, and glorious to behold!
It is our honour's pledge;
It is the token of a truth sublime,
A thing to die for, and to wonder at,
When, on the shuddering edge
Of some great storm, it waves its woven joy,
[6]Which no man shall destroy,
In shine or shower, in peace or battle-time.
Up with the flag!
The winds are wild to toss it, and to brag
Of England's high renown,—
And of the throne where Chivalry has sat
Acclaimed in bower and town
For England's high renown!—
[7]And of these happy isles where men are free
And masters of the sea,
The million-mouthëd sea,
That calls to us from shore to furthest shore—
That fought for us of yore,—
The thunder-throated, foam-frequented sea
That sounds the psalm of Victory evermore!
And let the winds caress it, fold on fold,—
A stainless flag, and glorious to behold!
It is our honour's pledge;
It is the token of a truth sublime,
A thing to die for, and to wonder at,
When, on the shuddering edge
Of some great storm, it waves its woven joy,
[6]Which no man shall destroy,
In shine or shower, in peace or battle-time.
Up with the flag!
The winds are wild to toss it, and to brag
Of England's high renown,—
And of the throne where Chivalry has sat
Acclaimed in bower and town
For England's high renown!—
[7]And of these happy isles where men are free
And masters of the sea,
The million-mouthëd sea,
That calls to us from shore to furthest shore—
That fought for us of yore,—
The thunder-throated, foam-frequented sea
That sounds the psalm of Victory evermore!
II.
For England's sake to-day,—
And for this flag of ours which, to the blast,
Unfurls, in proud array,
Its glittering width of splendour unsurpassed,—
For England's sake,
For our dear Sovereign's sake,—
We cry all shame on traitors, high and low,
[9]Whose word let no man take,
Whose love let no man seek throughout the land,—
Traitors who strive, with most degenerate hand,
To bring about our country's overthrow!
And for this flag of ours which, to the blast,
Unfurls, in proud array,
Its glittering width of splendour unsurpassed,—
For England's sake,
For our dear Sovereign's sake,—
We cry all shame on traitors, high and low,
[9]Whose word let no man take,
Whose love let no man seek throughout the land,—
Traitors who strive, with most degenerate hand,
To bring about our country's overthrow!
III.
The sun reels up the sky, the mists are gone,
And overhead the lilting bird of dawn
Has spread, adoring-wise, as for a prayer,
[10]Those wondrous wings of his,
Which never yet were symbols of despair!
It is the feathery foeman of the night
Who shakes adown the air
Song-scented trills and sunlit ecstasies.
Aye! 'tis the lark, the chorister in gray,
Who sings hosannas to the lord o
And overhead the lilting bird of dawn
Has spread, adoring-wise, as for a prayer,
[10]Those wondrous wings of his,
Which never yet were symbols of despair!
It is the feathery foeman of the night
Who shakes adown the air
Song-scented trills and sunlit ecstasies.
Aye! 'tis the lark, the chorister in gray,
Who sings hosannas to the lord o
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