And barking for the thrones of kings; Till one that sought but Duty’s iron crown On that loud sabbath shook the spoiler down; A day of onsets of despair! Dash’d on every rocky square 125 Their surging charges foam’d themselves away; Last, the Prussian trumpet blew; Thro’ the long-tormented air Heaven flash’d a sudden jubilant ray, And down we swept and charged and overthrew. 130 So great a soldier taught us there, What long-enduring hearts could do In that world-earthquake, Waterloo! Mighty Seaman, tender and true, And pure as he from taint of craven guile, 135 O saviour of the silver-coasted isle, O shaker of the Baltic and the Nile, If aught of things that here befall Touch a spirit among things divine, If love of country move thee there at all, 140 Be glad, because his bones are laid by thine! And thro’ the centuries let a people’s voice In full acclaim, A people’s voice, The proof and echo of all human fame, 145 A people’s voice, when they rejoice At civic revel and pomp and game, Attest their great commander’s claim With honour, honour, honour, honour to him, Eternal honour to his name. 150 VII. A people’s voice! we are a people yet. Tho’ all men else their nobler dreams forget, Confused by brainless mobs and lawless powers; Thank Him who isled us here, and roughly set His Saxon[2] in blown seas and storming showers, 155 We have a voice, with which to pay the debt Of boundless love and reverence and regret To those great men who fought, and kept it ours. And keep it ours, O God, from brute control; O Statesmen, guard us, guard the eye, the soul 160 Of Europe, keep our noble England whole, And save the one true seed of freedom sown Betwixt a people and their ancient throne, That sober freedom out of which there springs Our loyal passion for our temperate kings; 165 For, saving that, ye help to save mankind Till public wrong be crumbled into dust, And drill the raw world for the march of mind, Till crowds at length be sane and crowns be just. But wink no more in slothful overtrust. 170 Remember him who led your hosts; He bad you guard the sacred coasts. Your cannons moulder on the seaward wall; His voice is silent in your council-hall For ever; and whatever tempests lour 175 For ever silent; even if they broke In thunder, silent; yet remember all He spoke among you, and the Man who spoke; Who never sold the truth to serve the hour, Nor palter’d with Eternal God for power; 180 Who let the turbid streams of rumour flow Thro’ either babbling world of high and low; Whose life was work, whose language rife With rugged maxims hewn from life; Who never spoke against a foe; 185 Whose eighty winters freeze with one rebuke All great self-seekers trampling on the right: