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Poetical Remains of the Late Mrs Hemans/The English Boy

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For other versions of this work, see The English Boy.


THE ENGLISH BOY.




"Go, call thy sons; instruct them what a debt
They owe their ancestors; and make them swear
To pay it, by transmitting down entire
Those sacred rights to which themselves were born."
Akenside.



Look from the ancient mountains down,
    My noble English Boy!
Thy country's fields around thee gleam
    In sunlight and in joy.

Ages have roll'd since foeman's march
    Pass'd o'er that old firm sod;
For well the land hath fealty held
    To Freedom and to God!


Gaze proudly on, my English Boy!
    And let thy kindling mind
Drink in the spirit of high thought
    From every chainless wind!

There, in the shadow of old Time,
    The halls beneath thee lie,
Which pour'd forth to the fields of yore,
    Our England's chivalry.

How bravely and how solemnly
    They stand, 'midst oak and yew!
Whence Cressy's yeomen haply framed
    The bow, in battle true.

And round their walls the good swords hang
    Whose faith knew no alloy,
And shields of knighthood, pure from stain—
    Gaze on, my English Boy!


Gaze where the hamlet's ivied church
    Gleams by the antique elm,
Or where the minster lifts the cross
    High through the air's blue realm.

Martyrs have shower'd their free hearts' blood,
    That England's prayer might rise,
From those grey fanes of thoughtful years,
    Unfetter'd, to the skies.

Along their aisles, beneath their trees,
    This earth's most glorious dust,
Once fired with valour, wisdom, song,
    Is laid in holy trust.

Gaze on—gaze farther, farther yet—
    My gallant English Boy!
Yon blue sea bears thy country's flag,
    The billows' pride and joy!


Those waves in many a fight have closed
    Above her faithful dead;
That red-cross flag victoriously
    Hath floated o'er their bed.

They perish'd—this green turf to keep
    By hostile tread unstained;
These knightly halls inviolate,
    Those churches unprofaned.

And high and clear, their memory's light
    Along our shore is set,
And many an answering beacon-fire
    Shall there be kindled yet!

Lift up thy heart, my English Boy!
    And pray, like them to stand,
Should God so summon thee, to guard
    The altars of the land.