| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
| |
| 1216. At Gibraltar |
| | | By George Edward Woodberry |
| |
| |
I
ENGLAND, I stand on thy imperial ground, | |
| Not all a stranger; as thy bugles blow, | |
| I feel within my blood old battles flow,— | |
| The blood whose ancient founts in thee are found. | |
| Still surging dark against the Christian bound | 5 |
| Wide Islam presses; well its peoples know | |
| Thy heights that watch them wandering below; | |
| I think how Lucknow heard their gathering sound. | |
| I turn, and meet the cruel, turbaned face. | |
| England, ’t is sweet to be so much thy son! | 10 |
| I feel the conqueror in my blood and race; | |
| Last night Trafalgar awed me, and to-day | |
| Gibraltar wakened; hark, thy evening gun | |
| Startles the desert over Africa! | |
| |
II
Thou art the rock of empire, set mid-seas | 15 |
| Between the East and West, that God has built; | |
| Advance thy Roman borders where thou wilt, | |
| While run thy armies true with his decrees; | |
| Law, justice, liberty,—great gifts are these: | |
| Watch that they spread where English blood is spilt, | 20 |
| Lest, mixed and sullied with his country’s guilt, | |
| The soldier’s life-stream flow, and Heaven displease! | |
| Two swords there are: one naked, apt to smite, | |
| Thy blade of war; and, battle-storied, one | |
| Rejoices in the sheath, and hides from light. | 25 |
| American I am; would wars were done! | |
| Now westward, look, my country bids good-night,— | |
| Peace to the world from ports without a gun! | |
| |
|
|
|
