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Into the mist my guardian prows put forth,

Behind the mist my virgin ramparts lie,
The Warden of the Honour of the North,

Sleepless and veiled am I!

Quebec and Montreal.
Peace is our portion. Yet a whisper rose,

Foolish and causeless, half in jest, half hate.
Now wake we and remember mighty blows,

And, fearing no man, wait!

Victoria. From East to West the circling word has passed,

Till West is East beside our land-locked blue; From East to West the tested chain holds fast,

The well-forged link rings true!

Capetown. Hail! Snatched and bartered oft from hand to

hand, I dream my dream, by rock and heath and pine, Of Empire to the northward. Ay, one land

From Lion's Head to Line!

Greeting! Nor fear nor favour won us place,

Got between greed of gold and dread of drouth, Loud-voiced and reckless as the wild tide-race

That whips our harbour-mouth!

Sydney. Greeting! My birth-stain have I turned to good;

Forcing strong wills perverse to steadfastness; The first flush of the tropics in my blood,

And at my feet Success!

The northern stirp beneath the southern skies-

I build a nation for an Empire's need,
Suffer a little, and my land shall rise,

Queen over lands indeed!

Man's love first found me; man's hate made me

For my babes' sake I cleansed those infamies.
Earnest for leave to live and labour well

God flung me peace and ease.

Last, loneliest, loveliest, exquisite, apart-

On us, on us the unswerving season smiles,
Who wonder 'mid our fern why men depart

To seek the Happy Isles !

England's Answer. Truly ye come of The Blood; slower to bless than

to ban; Little used to lie down at the bidding of any man. Flesh of the flesh that I bred, bone of the bone

that I bare; Stark as your sons shall be—stern as your fathers

were. Deeper than speech our love, stronger than life

our tether, But we do not fall on the neck nor kiss when we

come together. My arm is nothing weak, my strength is not gone

by; Sons, I have borne many sons but my dugs are

not dry.

Look, I have made ye a place and opened wide

the doors, That ye may talk together, your Barons and Coun

cillorsWards of the Outer March, Lords of the Lower

Seas, Ay, talk to your gray mother that bore you on her

knees ! That ye may. talk together, brother to brother's

faceThus for the good of your peoples—thus for the

Pride of the Race. Also, we will make promise. So long as The

Blood endures, I shall know that your good is mine: ye shall feel

that my strength is yours: In the day of Armageddon, at the last great fight

of all, That Our House stand together and the pillars do

not fall. Draw now the three-fold knot firm on the nine

fold bands, And the Law that ye make shall be law after the

rule of your lands. This for the waxen Heath, and that for the Wattle


This for the Maple-leaf, and that for the southern

Broom. The Law that ye make shall be law and I do not

press my will, Because ye are Sons of The Blood and call me

Mother still. Now must ye speak to your kinsmen and they

must speak to you, After the use of the English, in straight-flung words

and few. Go to your work and be strong, halting not in

your ways, Baulking the end half-won for an instant dole of · praise. Stand to your work and be wise-certain of sword

and pen, Who are neither children nor Gods, but men in a

world of men!

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