________________________________________________
Title: Thrice-Armed
Author: Alfred Noyes [
More Titles by Noyes]
Thus only should it come, if come it must--
Not with a riot of flags and a mob-born cry,
But with a noble faith, a conscience high
That, if we fail, we failed not in our trust.
We fought for peace. We dared the bitter thrust
Of calumny for peace, and watched her die,
Her scutcheons rent from sky to outraged sky
By felon hands and trampled into the dust.
We proffered justice, and we saw the law
Cancelled by stroke on stroke of those deft hands
Which still retain the imperial forger's pen.
They must have blood--Then, at this last, we draw
The sword, not with a riot of flags and bands,
But silence, and a mustering of men.
They challenge Truth. A people makes reply,
East, West, North, South, one honour and one might,
From sea to sea, from height to war-worn height,
The old word rings out--to conquer or to die.
And we shall conquer! Though their eagles fly
Through heaven, around this ancient isle unite
Powers that were never vanquished in the fight,
The unconquerable Powers that cannot lie.
Though fire destroy her flesh, and many a year
This land forgot the faith that made her great,
Now, as her fleets cast off the North Sea foam,
Casting aside all faction and all fear,
Thrice-armed in all the majesty of her fate,
Britain remembers, and her sword strikes home.
[The end]
Alfred Noyes's poem: Thrice-Armed
________________________________________________
GO TO TOP OF SCREEN
