Classic Poem

Once there was a time in England, for a random space alone
When the tyrannies of Europe bowed themselves at England's throne,
When the servant of the nation thought no shame to serve the Lord
When the sufferings of the stranger could be righted with the sword.

'Twas a time of desperate menace, mid the crash of civil strife
'Twas a time of lawless kinghood, hanging on a single life
'Twas a flash of desperate genius, swallowed by an endless sea
When the ancient flag of England was the star of all the free.

O thou grim old captain, watching from the land beyond the grave
Like a wounded king and warrior, all the strivings of the brave.
We are girt with codes and cautions, nets of policy and plan
Bonds that bar the path of vengeance to the holy wrath of man
Cannot, though our blood be flaming, as we grope the nets among
Fling the battle-gage in thunder at the startled feet of wrong
But must speak with formal reverence, urge with pleading look and word
Truth that such should rather meet with urged with battle flame and sword.
Thou who fenced the poor of Piedmont, thou who set the Hebrew free
Take our forms and codes and treaties,
Give us but an hour with thee.
Peace!
There is no fear of slaughter, list not for the clash of steel
Well the braggart powers of Russia know the age with which they deal.
'Tis an age of peace and commerce, bloodless land and stainless sea,
Cries of " peace" where there is no peace: where no peace should ever be!

Are our thoughts with old Crusaders, with knight-errantry our sighs
Here at least the laughing Devil works his will beneath our eyes
Little need we seek for causes neath the charnel and the sod
While a brave and tortured people cry the shame of men to God!
You that work the will of Russia, howling Christ against the few
He will take some crowd of heathen ere He opens the gates to you.

Christ has borne from you more insult than from Israel he has borne
Ye have placed the scourge of murder where they placed the reed of scorn
Where they flung the robe of Caesar, mocking him with Rome's renown,
Ye have crowned your God as Pharoah and his curse be with his crown.
On, go on in safe dominions, 'tis in times of peace we dwell
Commerce with a bridge of silver joins the gates of Heaven and Hell
Let your servants work their fancies, speak not of [ ] were best
Need a woman's shriek at midnight break the calm of Europe's rest
Snatch the nearest tool to torture, be it cannon, be it creed,
Let the frown of dead religion be the mask of living greed,
Fear not that mankind will touch thee for the torment of a Jew,
Kings and states sit silent round you, does not God sit silent too.

Was there theft? A slave has done it. Is there wrong? The system blame
God forbid the lips of Europe should pronounce a royal name
Cain's old craft has been in practice: but our eyes [remain cast down].
We must not look too closely at the brow that wears a crown.

For your realm is calm and ordered which the white Czar ruleth o'er.
Comes no shout of clamorous voters, flies no flaring tricolour,
Only comes the cry of Rachel, wild and piercing o'er the dead
Only on your bubbling gutters runs the glow of rebel red!

O that somewhere in the future, yonder trampled rule to save
We may send the war cry burning on the lips of all the brave
In all generous hearts where deeper than all race and creed and clan
Lies the throbbing vein of anger at the common shame of man.
Do we seek for cause of battle, chivalry and old emprise
Yonder in the streets of Russia, 'neath the stars of God it lies.