Poems (Cook)/The Englishman

by Eliza Cook

THE ENGLISHMAN.

There's a land that bears a world-known name,
 Though it is but a little spot;
I say 'tis first on the scroll of Fame,
 And who shall say it is not?
Of the deathless ones who shine and live
 In Arms, in Arts, or Song;
The brightest the whole wide world can give
 To that little land belong.
'Tis the star of earth, deny it who can;
The island home of an Englishman.

There's a flag that waves o'er every sea,
 No matter when or where;
And to treat that flag as aught but the free
 Is more than the strongest dare.
For the lion spirits that tread the deck
 Have carried the palm of the brave;
And that flag may sink with a shot-torn wreck,
 But never float over a slave.
Its honour is stainless, deny it who can;
And this is the flag of an Englishman.

There's a heart that leaps with burning glow,
 The wrong'd and the weak to defend;
And strikes as soon for a trampled foe,
 As it does for a soul-bound friend.
It nurtures a deep and honest love,
 It glows with faith and pride,
And yearns with the fondness of a dove
 To the light of its own fireside.
'Tis a rich, rough gem, deny it who can;
And this is the heart of an Englishman.

The Briton may traverse the pole or the zone,
 And boldly claim his right;
For he calls such a vast domain his own,
 That the sun never sets on his might.
Let the haughty stranger seek to know
 The place of his home and birth;
And a flush will pour from cheek to brow,
 While he tells his native earth.
For a glorious charter, deny it who can,
Is breathed in the words—"I'm an Englishman."