SPIRIT OF ENGLAND, THOU WERT NOT SLEEPING.

Mount Ida Chronicle, Volume II, Issue 118, 2 June 1871, Page 7

SPIRIT OF ENGLAND, THOU WERT NOT SLEEPING.

A REPLY. Spirit of England, thou wert not sleeping ! Soul of my country, thou art not fled ! Thou hast aided the wounded and gladdened the weeping, Thou hast nourished the starving, who cheerless are reaping The bitter harvest which war has spread. Thou art not sleeping ; not unavailing Comes the widow's plaint, comes the orphan's wailing : Thou hast dried the tears by thy sister shed ; For, 'midst the slaughter across the water, Thy ships have sought her with gold and bread. Her head was wounded, 'twas thou who bound it ; Thou wert not sleeping, nor cold, nor dead. Weep ! Thou didst weep for her martia 1 fervor. Pray ! Thou did'st pray her her wrath to rein. But thy tears and thy pleadings were vain to serve her ; What blame, then, to thee, if she turned to nerve her ? Thro' the blood of her bravest, new glory to gain. From the roar of the cannon, the clash of the sabre, Thou tnrnedst with tears, not to sleep but to labor; Through sorrow, and sighing, and ruin, and pain, In silence unheeding thy passioned heart's pleading. That thy voice interceding might whisper again, Till the words hushed by scorning when uttered in warning Might be heard when the din and the fury should wane. Now, with her laurels brown and faded, Her standard rent by the German sword. Her fields, laid waste and her hearths invaded, Her spirit jaded, her glory faded, She bows her head at the victor's word. What tho' thine arm ne'er sought to guard her ! Tho' thy heart ne'er trembled with warlike ardor Was thy spirit within the cold or hard ? When back from Heaven the war-cloud driven Revealed her riven and worn and scarred, 'Twas thou who brought her the cup of water That " shall not in any wise lose its reward."