XXXVIII.

And pant for glory ’midst their brave compeers Nial and Morton--keen as curbéd steed. Though soft their souls in love to melt in tears, In war they could unmoved see hundreds bleed. Of passionate fervour was their patriot creed, And next to Heaven they loved their native land. With Blanca there to fly, when Spain was freed, Before the frowning wall young Morton planned, And murmur thus his lips while waits his eager band:--

The Glory of Islands.

1.

Forbid the linnet from its nest, And crush its homeward aspirations-- As vain to chide the heaving breast, And woo repose in foreign nations! No, England, no! beyond the foam, Around thy beauteous shore that circles, I would not fix my lasting home For every gem that brightest sparkles!

2.

More cloudless bend Italian skies; Burgundian fruits more richly cluster; Iberia’s slopes more gently rise, And shine her stars with purer lustre. O’er Adria’s coast, o’er fair Stamboul, O’er soft Mæonia show’rs more splendour. Out, sunk ’neath Slavery’s abject rule! ’Tis _thou_ art Freedom’s grand defender!

3.

Far sunnier Isles the South make glad, From Palma’s gulf to the Ægean; Idalia rose and myrtle clad, Sicilian shores, and bowers Dictæan; The Cyclades that shine to snare, From Lemnos old to Rhodes romantic; And far Funchál, whose balmy air Swells earth’s best vine ’mid the Atlantic.

4.

But, oh loved land! what magic lifts Thee high above all rival glory, Fills up the void of Nature’s gifts, And makes thy deeds the pride of story? What charm endues thy talisman, Thou chrysolite amid the waters, And deifies the power of man? The genius of thy sons and daughters!

5.

The vigorous thought, the spirit firm, The pride of truth, the deep devotion, The labouring head and stalwart arm, That crown thee Queen of Earth and Ocean! That clothe with grain thy rugged steeps, Thy factory piles make teem prolific, And man the fleet each sea that sweeps To make its trembling shores pacific.

6.

Illustrious land! Yet more than this, Thou harbourest all life’s solid graces-- No fiends that murder with a kiss-- No treacherous breasts ’neath smiling faces! Oh! still be thine the bold, the true, The honest, manly, independent; In mind, in heart, in sinew, too, O’er every other land transcendent!