Glory of thought and glory of deed, Glory of Hampden and Runnymede; Glory of ships that sought far goals, Glory of swords and glory of souls! Glory of songs mounting as birds, Glory immortal of magical words; Glory of Milton, glory of Nelson, Tragical glory of Gordon and Scott; Glory of Shelley, glory of Sidney, Glory transcendent that perishes not,-- Hers is the story, hers be the glory, _England!_ Shatter her beauteous breast ye may; The Spirit of England none can slay! Dash the bomb on the dome of Paul’s,-- Deem ye the fame of the Admiral falls? Pry the stone from the chancel floor,-- Dream ye that Shakespeare shall live no more? Where is the giant shot that kills Wordsworth walking the old green hills? Trample the red rose on the ground,-- Keats is Beauty while earth spins round! Bind her, grind her, burn her with fire, Cast her ashes into the sea,-- She shall escape, she shall aspire, She shall arise to make men free: She shall arise in a sacred scorn, Lighting the lives that are yet unborn; Spirit supernal, Splendour eternal, ENGLAND! SOLDIERS OF THE LIGHT “Why of War, O thou that lovest rather Peace of roses in a rain-sweet garden, Peace of moonlit silver-heaving waters, All the lovely looks of little children? What strange mandate Bids thee sing of War, who lovest these things? “How of War, O faint-heart, thou that grievest Over every gentle creature wounded, All soft eyes of pain and puzzled sorrow, All the lithe limbs marred, the wild wings broken? What black magic Makes thee brood on War, who dreadest these things? “Is it but the haunting of the bugles, Floating memories of the war-time bugles Blowing over those far fields of childhood, Pleasant in the foolish ear of childhood, When the sword-hilt Seemed but made to shine and hold a jewel?” Then the inward Voice that gave the mandate,-- Bade me sing of battle,--bade me answer: Well I know the symbol of the sword-hilt, Know the Cross of sacrifice and service; See the heart’s-blood Burning where the child beheld the jewel. I have hated with the perfect hatred All the work of Hell in all the ages; Hated all the hate and all the horror; Yet the Vision of the Face of faces, God-in-Manhood, Shines through Hell, and I have seen the Vision. In all battles, under many banners, Soldiers of the Light have fought, have fallen, Souls elect and armoured all with honour, Following an unconquerable Captain; Fighting, falling, For the hope, the dream, the splendid secret!