England's Hope And England's Heir.

England's Hope and England's Heir!
Head and crown of Britain's glory,
Be thy future half so fair
As her past is famed in story,
Then wilt thou be great, indeed,
Daring, where there's cause to dare;
Greatest in the hour of need,
England's Hope and England's Heir.

By her past, in acts supreme,
By her present grand endeavour,
By her future, which the gleam
Of our fond hopes brings us ever:
We can trust that thou wilt be
Worthy of a fame so rare,
Worthy of thy destiny,
England's Hope and England's Heir.

Be thy spirit fraught with hers,
Queen, whom we revere and honour;
Be thine acts love's messengers,
Brightly flashing back upon her;
Be what most her trust would deem,
Help the answer to her prayer,
Realize her holiest dream,
England's Hope and England's Heir.

Welcome, Prince! the land is wide,
Wider still the love we cherish;
Love that thou shalt find, when tried,
Is not born to droop and perish;

Welcome to our heart of hearts;
You will find no falsehood there,
But the zeal that truth imparts,
England's Hope and England's Heir.

Welcome to our woodland deeps,
To our inland lakes, and rivers,
Where the rapid roars and sweeps,
Where the brightest sunlight quivers.
Loyal souls can never fail;
Serfdom crouches in its lair;
But our British hearts are hale,
England's Hope and England's Heir.

Charles Sangster

Charles Sangster was a Canadian poet born on July 16, 1822, in Kingston, Ontario. Sangster is considered one of Canada's first poets of significance, and his work often reflects the Canadian wilderness and nationalist themes. Known for his collections "The St. Lawrence and the Saguenay" and "Hesperus and Other Poems and Lyrics," Sangster's poetry demonstrates a deep connection to Canadian landscapes and identity. He died on December 9, 1893. His contributions helped lay the foundation for future Canadian literature.

Charles Sangster

Sonnet: - XXI.

Charles Sangster, Simple Poetry

The Plains Of Abraham.

Charles Sangster, Simple Poetry

Au Revoir.

Charles Sangster, Simple Poetry

The Unattainable.

Charles Sangster, Simple Poetry

English

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A Royal Welcome.

By England's side we stand,
We grasp her royal hand,
And pay her rightful homage through her Son;
Thank God for England's care!
Thank God for Britain's heir!
Our hearts go forth to meet him - we are one.

A loyal Province pours
Her thousands to her shores,
From iron-girt Superior to the sea;
We feel our youthful blood
Surge through us like a flood,
There's not a slave amongst us - we are free.

For none but Freemen know
The truly loyal throe
That gives heroic impulse to the Man -
The passion and the fire,
The chivalrous desire:
Our Fathers all were heroes - in the van.

And we, their ardent sons,
Through whom, triumphant, runs
The old intrepid attribute serene,
Would leave our chosen land,
Our homes, our forests gra...

Charles Sangster

England: an Ode

I
Sea and strand, and a lordlier land than sea-tides rolling and rising sun
Clasp and lighten in climes that brighten with day when day that was here is done,
Call aloud on their children, proud with trust that future and past are one.
Far and near from the swan's nest here the storm-birds bred of her fair white breast,
Sons whose home was the sea-wave's foam, have borne the fame of her east and west;
North and south has the storm-wind's mouth rung praise of England and England's quest.
Fame, wherever her flag flew, never forbore to fly with an equal wing:
France and Spain with their warrior train bowed down before her as thrall to king;
India knelt at her feet, and felt her sway more fruitful of life than spring.
Darkness round them as iron bound fell off from races of elder name,
Sl...

Algernon Charles Swinburne

Coronation Poem And Prayer

The world has crowned a thousand kings:
    But destiny has kept
Her weightiest hour of kingly power
    To offer England's son.
The rising bell of Progress rings;
    And Truths which long have slept,
Like prophets strange, predicting change,
    Before Time's chariot run.

The greatest Empire of the Earth.
    Old England proudly stands.
Like arteries her Colonies
    Reach out from sea to sea.
She clasps all races in her girth;
    Her gaze the world commands;
And far and wide where strong ships ride,
    The British Flag floats free.

Oh, never since the stars began
    Their round of Cosmic law,
And souls evolved in ways unsolved,
    And kingdoms reached their prime
Has Destiny held out to Man
    A gift so full of awe,...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Happy Is England Now

There is not anything more wonderful
Than a great people moving towards the deep
Of an unguessed and unfeared future; nor
Is aught so dear of all held dear before
As the new passion stirring in their veins
When the destroying Dragon wakes from sleep.

Happy is England now, as never yet!
And though the sorrows of the slow days fret
Her faithfullest children, grief itself is proud.
Ev'n the warm beauty of this spring and summer
That turns to bitterness turns then to gladness
Since for this England the beloved ones died.

Happy is England in the brave that die
For wrongs not hers and wrongs so sternly hers;
Happy in those that give, give, and endure
The pain that never the new years may cure;
Happy in all her dark woods, green fields, towns,
Her hi...

John Frederick Freeman

Ode On The Installation Of His Royal Highness Prince Albert As Chancellor Of The University Of Cambridge, July 1847

INTRODUCTION AND CHORUS

For thirst of power that Heaven disowns,
For temples, towers, and thrones,
Too long insulted by the Spoiler's shock,
Indignant Europe cast
Her stormy foe at last
To reap the whirlwind on a Libyan rock.

SOLO (TENOR)

War is passion's basest game
Madly played to win a name;
Up starts some tyrant, Earth and Heaven to dare,
The servile million bow;
But will the lightning glance aside to spare
The Despot's laureled brow?

CHORUS

War is mercy, glory, fame,
Waged in Freedom's holy cause;
Freedom, such as Man may claim
Under God's restraining laws.
Such is Albion's fame and glory:
Let rescued Europe tell the story.

RECIT. (accompanied) (CONTRALTO)

But lo, what sudden cloud ha...

William Wordsworth

What Have I Done For You

What have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Round the world on your bugles blown!

Where shall the watchful Sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice agen
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Down the years on your bugles blown?

Ever the faith endures,
England, my England:-
'Take and break us:    we are yours,
'England, my own!
'Life is good, and joy runs high
'Between English earth and sky:

William Ernest Henley