"Never the lotos closes, never the wild-fowl wake, But a soul goes out on the East Wind that died for England's sake-- Man or woman or suckling, mother or bride or maid-- Because on the bones of the English the English Flag is stayed. "The desert-dust hath dimmed it, the flying wild-ass knows. The scared white leopard winds it across the taint-less snows. What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my sun to dare, Ye have but my sands to travel. Go forth, for it is there!" The West Wind called:--"In squadrons the thoughtless galleons fly That bear the wheat and cattle lest street-bred people die. They make my might their porter, they make my house their path, Till I loose my neck from their rudder and whelm them all in my wrath. "I draw the gliding fog-bank as a snake is drawn from the hole; They bellow one to the other, the frightened ship-bells toll, For day is a drifting terror till I raise the shroud with my breath, And they see strange bows above them and the two go locked to death. "But whether in calm or wrack-wreath, whether by dark or day, I heave them whole to the conger or rip their plates away, First of the scattered legions, under a shrieking sky, Dipping between the rollers, the English Flag goes by. "The dead dumb fog hath wrapped it--the frozen dews have kissed-- The naked stars have seen it, a fellow-star in the mist. What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my breath to dare, Ye have but my waves to conquer. Go forth, for it is there!" IV THE KING "Farewell, Romance!" the Cave-men said; "With bone well carved he went away; Flint arms the ignoble arrowhead, And jasper tips the spear to-day. Changed are the Gods of Hunt and Dance, And he with these. Farewell, Romance!" "Farewell, Romance!" the Lake-folk sighed; "We lift the weight of flatling years; The caverns of the mountain side Hold him who scorns our hutted piers. Lost hills whereby we dare not dwell, Guard ye his rest. Romance, farewell!" "Farewell, Romance!" the Soldier spoke; "By sleight of sword we may not win, But scuffle 'mid uncleanly smoke Of arquebus and culverin. Honour is lost, and none may tell Who paid good blows. Romance, farewell!" "Farewell, Romance!" the Traders cried; "Our keels ha' lain with every sea; The dull-returning wind and tide Heave up the wharf where we would be; The known and noted breezes swell Our trudging sail. Romance, farewell!" "Good-bye, Romance!" the Skipper said; "He vanished with the coal we burn; Our dial marks full steam ahead. Our speed is timed to half a turn. Sure as the tidal trains we ply 'Twixt port and port. Romance, good-bye!"