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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 487 |
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AVE IMPERATR1X
S
ET in this stormy Northern sea, Queen of these restless fields of tide, England ! What shall men say of thee, Before whose feet the worlds divide ?
The earth, a brittle globe of glass,
Lies in the hollow of thy hand, And through its heart of crystal pass,
Like shadows through a twilight land,
The spears of crimson-suited war,
The long white-crested waves of fight,
And all the deadly fires which are The torches of the lords of Night.
The yellow leopards, strained and lean, The treacherous Russian knows so well,
With gaping blackened jaws are seen To leap through hail of screaming shell.
The strong sea-lion of England's wars Hath left his sapphire cave of sea,
To battle with the storm that mars The star of England's chivalry.
The brazen-throated clarion blows
Across the Pathan's reedy fen, And the high steeps of Indian snows
Shake to the tread of armed men.
And many an Afghan chief who lies Beneath his cool pomegranate-trees, |
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