Up with the country's flag!
And let the winds caress it, fold on fold,—
A stainless flag, and glorious to behold!
It is our honour's pledge;
It is the token of a truth sublime,
A thing to die for, and to wonder at,
When, on the shuddering edge
Of some great storm, it waves its woven joy,
Which no man shall destroy,
In shine or shower, in peace or battle-time.
Up with the flag!
The winds are wild to toss it, and to brag
Of England's high renown,—
And of the throne where Chivalry has sat
Acclaimed in bower and town
For England's high renown!—
And of these happy isles where men are free
And masters of the sea,
The million-mouthËd sea,
That calls to us from shore to furthest shore—
That fought for us of yore,—
The thunder-throated, foam-frequented sea
That sounds the psalm of Victory evermore!