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Bridges Robert
October and Other Poems with Occasional Verses on the War
BRITANNIA VICTRIX
Careless wast thou in thy pride,
Queen of seas and countries wide,
Glorying on thy peaceful throne:—
Can thy love thy sins atone?
What shall dreams of glory serve,
If thy sloth thy doom deserve,
When the strong relentless foe
Storm thy gates to lay thee low?
Careless, ah! he saw thee leap
Mighty from thy startled sleep,
Heard afar thy challenge ring:
’Twas the world’s awakening.
Welcome to thy children all
Rallying to thee without call
Oversea, the sportive sons
From thy vast dominions!
Stern in onset or defence,
Terrible in their confidence.
Dauntless wast thou, fair goddess,
’Neath the cloud of thy distress;
Fierce and mirthful wast thou seen
In thy toil and in thy teen;
While the nations looked to thee,
Spent in worldwide agony.
Oft, throughout that long ordeal
Dark with horror-stricken duty,
Nature on thy heart would steal
Beckoning thee with heavenly beauty,
Heightening ever on thine isle
All her seasons’ tranquil smile;
Till thy soul anew converted,
Roaming o’er the fields deserted,
By thy sorrow sanctified,
Found a place wherein to hide.
Soon fresh beauty lit thy face,
Then thou stood’st in Heaven’s high grace:
Sudden in air on land and sea
Swell’d the voice of victory.
Now when jubilant bells resound
And thy sons come laurel-crown’d,
After all thy years of woe
Thou no longer canst forgo,
Now thy tears are loos’d to flow.
Land, dear land, whose sea-built shore
Nurseth warriors evermore,
Land, whence Freedom far and lone
Round the earth her speech has thrown
Like a planet’s luminous zone,—
In thy strength and calm defiance
Hold mankind in love’s alliance!
Beauteous art thou, but the foes
Of thy beauty are not those
Who lie tangled and dismay’d;
Fearless one, be yet afraid
Lest thyself thyself condemn
In the wrong that ruin’d them.
God, who chose thee and upraised
’Mong the folk (His name be praised!),
Proved thee then by chastisement
Worthy of His high intent,
Who, because thou could’st endure,
Saved thee free and purged thee pure,
Won thee thus His grace to win,
For thy love forgave thy sin,
For thy truth forgave thy pride,
Queen of seas and countries wide,—
He who led thee still will guide.
Hark! thy sons, those spirits fresh
Dearly housed in dazzling flesh,
Thy full brightening buds of strength,
Ere their day had any length
Crush’d, and fallen in torment sorest,
Hark! the sons whom thou deplorest
Call—I hear one call; he saith:
“Mother, weep not for my death:
’Twas to guard our home from hell,
’Twas to make thy joy I fell
Praising God, and all is well.
What if now thy heart should quail
And in peace our victory fail!
If low greed in guise of right
Should consume thy gather’d might,
And thy power mankind to save
Fall and perish on our grave!
On my grave, whose legend be
Fought with the brave and joyfully
Died in faith of victory.
Follow on the way we won!
Thou hast found, not lost thy son.”
November 23, 1918.
DER TAG: NELSON AND BEATTY
A BROADSHEET
1
No doubt ’twas a truly Christian sight
When the German ships came out of the Bight,
But it can’t be said it was much of a fight
That grey November morning;
The wonderful day, the great Der Tag,
Which Prussians had vow’d with unmannerly brag
Should see Old England lower her flag
Some grey November morning.
2
The spirit of Nelson, that haunts the Fleet,
Had come whereabouts the ships must meet,
But he fear’d there was some decoy or cheat
That grey November morning,
When the enemy led by a British scout
Stole ’twixt our lines … and never a shout
Or a signal; and never a gun spoke out
That grey November morning.
3
So he shaped his course to the Admiral’s ship,
Where Beatty stood with hand on hip
Impassive, nor ever moved his lip
That grey November morning;
And touching his shoulder he said: “My mate,
Am I come too soon or am I too late?
Is it friendly manœuvres or pageant of State
This grey November morning?”
4
Then Beatty said: “As Admiral here
In the name of the King I bid you good cheer:
It’s not my fault that it looks so queer
This grey November morning;
But there come the enemy all in queues;
They can fight well enough if only they choose;
Small blame to me if the fools refuse,
This grey November morning.
5
“That’s Admiral Reuter, surrendering nine
Great Dreadnoughts, all first-rates of the line;
Beyond, in the haze that veils the brine
This grey November morning,
Loom five heavy Cruisers, and light ones four,
With a tail of Destroyers, fifty or more,
Each squadron under its Commodore,
This grey November morning.
6
“The least of all those captive queens
Could have knock’d your whole navy to smithereens,
And nothing said of the other machines,
On a grey November morning,
The aeroplanes and the submarines,
Bombs, torpedoes, and Zeppelins,
Their floating mines and their smoky screens,
Of a grey November morning.
7
“They’ll rage like bulls sans reason or rhyme,
And next day, as if ’twere a pantomime,
They walk in like cows at milking-time,
On a grey November morning.
We’re four years sick of the pestilent mob;
—You’ve heard of our biblical Battle in Gob?—
At times it was hardly a gentleman’s job
Of a grey November morning.”
8
Then Nelson said: “God bless my soul!
How things are changed in this age of coal;
For the spittle it isn’t with you I’d condole
This grey November morning.
By George! you’ve netted a monstrous catch:
You’ll be able to pen the best dispatch
That ever an Admiral wrote under hatch
On a grey November morning.
9
“I like your looks and I like your name:
My heart goes out to the old fleet’s fame,
And I’m pleased to find you so spry at the game
This grey November morning.
Your ships, tho’ I don’t half understand
Their build, are stouter and better mann’d
Than anything I ever had in command
Of a grey November morning.”
10
Then Beatty spoke: “Sir! none of my crew,
All bravest of brave and truest of true,
Is thinking of me so much as of you
This grey November morning.”
And Nelson replied: “Well, thanks f’ your chat.
Forgive my intrusion! I take off my hat
And make you my bow … we’ll leave it at that,
This grey November morning.”
