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d that stirs the peasant Thrills nobles' hearts with fear-- Yet above selfish sorrow Both hold their country dear. The rich man who reposes In his ancestral shade, The peasant at his ploughshare, The worker at his trade, Each one his all his perilled, Each has the same great stake, Each soul can but have patience, Each heart can only break! Hushed is all party clamour; One thought in every heart, One dread in every household, Has bid such strife depart. England has called her children; Long silent--the word came That lit the smouldering ashes Through all the land to flame. Oh you who toil and suffer, You gladly heard the call; But those you sometimes envy Have they not given their all? Oh you who rule the nation, Take now the toil-worn hand-- Brothers you are in sorrow, In duty to your land. Learn but this noble lesson Ere Peace returns again, And the life-blood of Old England Will not be shed in vain. VERSE: THE TWO SPIRITS (1855) Last night, when weary silence fell on all, And starless skies arose so dim and vast, I heard the Spirit of the Present call Upon the sleeping Spirit of the Past. Far off and near, I saw their radiance shine, And listened while they spoke of deeds divine. The Spirit of the Past. My deeds are writ in iron; My glory stands alone; A veil of shadowy honour Upon my tombs is thrown; The great names of my heroes Like gems in history lie; To live they deemed ignoble, Had they the chance to die! The Spirit of the Present. My children, too, are honoured; Dear shall their memory be To the proud lands that own them; Dearer than thine to thee; For, though they hold that sacred Is God's great gift of life, At the first call of duty They rush into the strife! The Spirit of the Past. Then, with all valiant precepts Woman's soft heart was fraught; "Death, not dishonour," echoed The war-cry she had taught. Fearless and glad, those mothers, At bloody deaths elate, Cried out they bore their children Only for such a fate! The Spirit of the Present. Though such stern laws of honour Are faded now away, Yet many a mourning mother, With nobler grief than they, Bows down in sad submission: The heroes of the fight Learnt at her knee the lesson, "For God and for the Right!" The Spirit of the Past. No voice there spake of sorrow: They saw the noblest fall With no repining murmur; Stern Fate was lord of all. And when the loved ones perished,
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