[Rudyard Kipling's long poem "A Song of the English," and the shorter, "White Man's Burden," may be read in connection with this topic; but nothing better asserts the imperial idea than the lines written by Tennyson at the request of the Prince of Wales (Edward VII.) for the opening of the Indian and Colonial Exhibition in 1886.] I Welcome, welcome with one voice! In your welfare we rejoice, Sons and brothers that have sent, From isle and cape and continent, Produce of your field and flood, Mount and mine and primal wood; Works of subtle brain and hand, And splendors of the morning land, Gifts from every British zone; Britons, hold your own! II May we find, as ages run, The mother featured in the son; And may yours forever be That old strength and constancy Which has made your fathers great In our ancient island state; And wherever her flag fly, Glorying between sea and sky, Makes the might of Britain known, Britons, hold your own! III Britain fought her sons of yore-- Britain failed; and nevermore, Careless of our growing kin, Shall we sin our fathers' sin; Men that in a narrower day-- Unprophetic rulers they-- Drove from out the mother's nest That young eagle of the West To forage for herself alone; Britons, hold your own! IV Sharers of our glorious past, Brothers, must we part at last? Shall we not thro' good and ill Cleave to one another still? Britain's myriad voices call, "Sons, be welded, each and all, Into one imperial whole, One with Britain, heart and soul! One life, one flag, one fleet, one throne; Britons, hold your own!