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The North Wind blew:-" From Bergen my steelshod vanguards go;

I chase your lazy whalers home from the Disko floe; By the great North Lights above me I work the will of God,

And the liner splits on the ice-field or the Dogger fills with cod.

"I barred my gates with iron, I shuttered my doors with flame,

Because to force my ramparts your nutshell navies came; I took the sun from their presence, I cut them down with my blast,

And they died, but the Flag of England blew free ere the spirit passed.

"The lean white bear hath seen it in the long, long Arctic night,

The musk-ox knows the standard that flouts the
Northern Light:

What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my
bergs to dare,

Ye have but my drifts to conquer. Go forth, for it is there!"

The South Wind sighed :-" From the Virgins my mid-sea course was ta'en

Over a thousand islands lost in an idle main,

Where the sea-egg flames on the coral and the longbacked breakers croon

Their endless ocean legends to the lazy, locked lagoon.

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Strayed amid lonely islets, mazed amid outer keys, I waked the palms to laughter-I tossed the scud in the breeze

Never was isle so little, never was sea so lone,

But over the scud and the palm-trees an English flag was flown.

"I have wrenched it free from the halliard to hang for a wisp on the Horn;

I have chased it north to the Lizard-ribboned and rolled and torn;

I have spread its fold o'er the dying, adrift in a hopeless sea;

I have hurled it swift on the slaver, and seen the slave set free.

"

My basking sunfish know it, and wheeling albatross, Where the lone wave fills with fire beneath the

Southern Cross.

What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my reefs to dare,

Ye have but my seas to furrow. Goforth, for it is there!"

The East Wind roared: -" From the Kuriles, the
Bitter Seas, I come,

And me men call the Home-Wind, for I bring the
English home.

Look-look well to your shipping! By the breath of my mad typhoon

I swept your close-packed Praya and beached your best at Kowloon!

"The reeling junks behind me and the racing seas before, Iraped your richest roadstead-I plundered Singapore! I set my hand on the Hoogli; as a hooded snake she rose,

And I flung your stoutest steamers to roost with the startled crows.

"Never the lotus closes, never the wild-fowl wake, But a soul goes out on the East Wind that died for England's sake

Man or woman or suckling, mother or bride or maidBecause on the bones of the English the English Flag is stayed.

"The desert-dust hath dimmed it, the flying wild-ass knows,

The scared white leopard winds it across the taintless

snows.

What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my sun to dare,

Ye have but my sands to travel. Go forth, for it is there!"

The West Wind called: "In squadrons the thoughtless galleons fly

That bear the wheat and cattle lest street-bred people die.

They make my might their porter, they make my

house their path,

Till I loose my neck from their rudder and whelm them all in my wrath.

"I draw the gliding fog-bank as a snake is drawn from the hole,

They bellow one to the other, the frighted ship-bells toll,

For day is a drifting terror till I raise the shroud with my breath,

And they see strange bows above them and the two go locked to death.

"But whether in calm or wrack-wreath, whether by dark or day,

I heave them whole to the conger or rip their plates

away,

First of the scattered legions, under a shrieking sky, Dipping between the rollers, the English Flag goes by.

"The dead dumb fog hath wrapped it—the frozen dews have kissed

The naked stars have seen it, a fellow-star in the mist. What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my

breath to dare,

Ye have but my waves to conquer. Go forth, for it

is there!"

"CLEARED"

(IN MEMORY OF A COMMISSION)

HELP for a patriot distressed, a spotless spirit hurt, Help for an honourable clan sore trampled in the dirt! From Queenstown Bay to Donegal, O listen to my song, The honourable gentlemen have suffered grievous

wrong.

Their noble names were mentioned-O the burning black disgrace!

By a brutal Saxon paper in an Irish shooting-case; They sat upon it for a year, then steeled their heart to brave it,

And "coruscating innocence" the learned Judges gave it.

Bear witness, Heaven, of that grim crime beneath the surgeon's knife,

The honourable gentlemen deplored the loss of life! Bear witness of those chanting choirs that burk and shirk and snigger,

No man laid hand upon the knife or finger to the trigger!

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