LXXII
A SONG OF ENGLAND
There’s a land, a dear land, where the rights of the free,
Though firm as the earth are as wide as the sea;
Where the primroses bloom, and the nightingales sing,
And the honest poor man is as good as a king.
Showery! Flowery!
Tearful! Cheerful!
England, wave-guarded and green to the shore!
West Land! Best Land!
Thy Land! My Land!
Glory be with her, and Peace evermore!
There’s a land, a dear land, where our vigour of soul,
Is fed by the tempests that blow from the Pole;
Where a slave cannot breathe, or invader presume,
To ask for more earth than will cover his tomb.
Sea Land! Free Land!
Fairest! Rarest!
Home of brave men, and the girls they adore!
Fearless! Peerless!
Thy Land! My Land!
Glory be with her, and Peace evermore!
Charles Mackay.
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