Far over land and sea the summons swept, And Canada, among her fields of grain, Threw down the sickle, caught the sword, and leapt, Shouting, across the main. Australia, hasting from the southward, came; Africa, India, sprang into the fight. "Lo, Kaiser! here our answer to thy claim; Now God shall show the right." Then he who drew the blade looked forth, and saw That ring of steel and fire about his throne, And knew himself at last, with trembling awe, The Lord of Death alone. NORAH HOLLAND _From "Spun-yarn and Spindrift"-- By permission of the Author and J. M. Dent & Sons, Ltd., Toronto_ EXTRACT FROM DEBATE ON THE ADDRESS (_British House of Commons, November 11, 1914_) The Empire is on its trial. The experience of these three months not only encourages us to believe, but inspires us with the confident hope that the longer the trial lasts, and the more severe it becomes, the more clearly shall we emerge from it the champions of a just cause, and we shall have achieved, not only for ourselves--for our direct and selfish interests are small--but for Europe and for civilization, and for the great principle of small nationalities, and for liberty and for justice, one of their most enduring victories. RT. HON. H. H. ASQUITH THE CANADIAN I never saw the cliffs of snow, The Channel billows tipped with cream, The restless, eddying tides that flow About the Island of my dream. I never saw the English downs Upon an April day, The quiet, old Cathedral towns, The hedgerows white with may. And still the name of England, Which tyrants laugh to scorn, Can thrill my soul. It is to me A very bugle-horn. A thousand leagues from Plymouth shore, In broader lands I saw the light. I never heard the cannon roar, Or saw a mark of England's might; Save that my people lived in peace, Bronzed in the harvest sun, And thought that tyranny would cease, That battle-days were done. And still the flag of England Streamed on a friendly breeze, And twice two hundred ships of war Went surging through the seas. I heard Polonius declaim About the new, the golden age, When Force would be the mark of shame, And men would curb their murderous rage. "Beat out your swords to pruning-hooks", He shouted to the folk. But I--I read my history books, And marvelled as he spoke. For it was glorious England, The mother of the Free, Who loosed that foolish tongue, but sent Her Admirals to sea.