frost and snow
Like whetstones sharpening still that virtue's edge.
We soften with the years. Beggars this day
Sue us for bread! Sirs, in a famine once
I saw, then young, a hundred at a time
That, linking hand in hand, loud singing rushed,
Like hunters chasing hart, to sea-beat cliffs,
And o'er them plunged! Now comes this Faith of Christ;
That Faith to which, because that Faith is true,
I pledged this morn my word, my seal, my soul,
The fate and fortunes of our native land
And all my royal House, well knowing this,
The king who loves his kingdom more than God,
Better than both loves self--no king at heart.
Now comes this Christian Faith! That Faith, be sure,
Is not a hardening faith: gentle it makes:--
I told you, Lords, we soften day by day;
I might have added that with growing years
Hardness we doubly need. When Rome was great
Our race, however far diffused, was one,
Blended by hate of Rome. When Rome declined
That bond dissolved. A second bond remained
In Odin's Faith:--Northmen alone retain it
In them a new Rome rises! Earls and Thanes!
The truth be ours though for that truth we die!
Hold fast that truth; yet hide not what it costs.
Through fog and sea-mist of the days to come
I see huge navies with the raven flag
Steering to milder borders Christian half,
Brother 'gainst brother ranging. Kingdoms Seven
Of this still fair and once heroic land,
I say, beware that hour! If come it must,
Then fall the thunder while I walk this earth,
Not when I skulk in crypts!'
The others mute,
From joy malicious some, some vexed with doubt,
Birinus made reply: 'My Lord and King,
Inly this day I gladden, certain now
That neither fancy-drawn, nor anger-spurred,
Nor seeking crowns, for others or thyself,
Nor shunning woes, the worst that earth can know,
For others or thyself, but urged by faith,
God's greatest gift to man, thou mad'st this day
Submission true to Christ. So be it, King!
So rest content! God with a finger's touch
Could melt that cloud which threats thy realm well-loved;
(That threat I deem nor trivial nor obscure)
Not thus He wills. Danger, distress, reverse,
Are heralds sent from God, like peace and joy,
To nations as to men. Happy that land
Which worketh darkling; worketh without