Yet at the last, ere our spearmen had found him,
Yet at the last, ere a sword-thrust could save,
Yet at the last, with his masters around him,
He spoke of the Faith as a master to slave.
Who hath desired the Sea? -- the sight of salt water unbounded --
The heave and the halt and the hurl and the crash of the comber wind-hounded?
The sleek-barrelled swell before storm, grey, foamless, enormous, and growing --
Stark calm on the lap of the Line or the crazy-eyed hurricane blowing --
It is always a temptation to an armed and agile nation
The Law whereby my lady moves
Was never Law to me,
But 'tis enough that she approves
Whatever Law it be.
Parliaments of Henry III., 1265
There are four good legs to my Father's Chair--
"They are fools who kiss and tell" --
Wisely has the poet sung.
Man may hold all sorts of posts
If he'll only hold his tongue.
For all we have and are,
For all our children's fate,
Stand up and meet the war.
The Hun is at the gate!