th palm and pine,
From East to West, are thine.
For as some pillar-star o'er sea and storm
Whole fleets to haven guides, so from that height
One great example points the path of Right,
And purifies the home; with gracious aid
Lifting the fallen form.
See Death by finer skill delay'd;
Kind hearts to wait on woe,
And feet of Love that in Christ's footsteps go;
Wild wastes of life reclaim'd by Woman's hand unseen:
All England bless'd with England's Empress Queen.

And now, as one who through some fruitful field
Has urged the fifty furrows of the grain,--
Look round with joy, and know thy care will yield
A thousandfold in its due day reveal'd,
The harvest laugh again:--
E'en now thy great crown'd ancestors on high
Watch with exultant eye
Thy hundred Englands o'er the broad earth sown,
And Arthur lives anew to hail his heir!
--O then for her and us we chant the prayer,--
Keep Thou this sea-girt citadel of the free
Safe 'neath her ancient throne,
Love-link'd in loyal unity;
Let eve's calm after-glow
Arch all the heaven with Hope's wide roseate bow:
Till in Time's fulness Thou, Almighty Lord unseen,
With glory and life immortal crown the Queen.

Published (June, 1887) under sanction of the Delegates of the Clarendon
Press, Oxford; and intended as an humble offering of loyalty and hearty
good-wishes on the part of the University.

ENGLAND ONCE MORE

Old if this England be
The Ship at heart is sound,
And the fairest she and gallantest
That ever sail'd earth round!
And children's children in the years
Far off will live to see
Her silver wings fly round the world,
Free heralds of the free!
While now on Him who long has bless'd
To bless her as of yore,
Once more we cry for England,
England once more!

They are firm and fine, the masts;
And the keel is straight and true;
Her ancient cross of glory
Rides burning through the blue:--
And that red sign o'er all the seas
The nations fear and know,
And the strong and stubborn hero-souls
That underneath it go:--
While now on Him who long has bless'd
To bless her as of yore,
Once more we cry for England,
England once more!

Prophets of dread and shame,
There is no place for you,
Weak-kneed and craven-breasted,
Amongst this English crew!
Bluff hearts that cannot learn to yield,
But as the waves run high,
And they can almost touch the night,
Behind