and snows:
So shall fear of thee fade even here: and what shall follow thee no
man knows."

Lords of night, who would breathe your blight on April's morning
and August's noon,
God your Lord, the condemned, the abhorred, sinks hellward, smitten
with deathlike swoon:
Death's own dart in his hateful heart now thrills, and night shall
receive him soon.

God the Devil, thy reign of revel is here for ever eclipsed and
fled:
God the Liar, everlasting fire lays hold at last on thee, hand and
head:
God the Accurst, the consuming thirst that burns thee never shall
here be fed.

II

England, queen of the waves whose green inviolate girdle enrings
thee round,
Mother fair as the morning, where is now the place of thy foemen
found?
Still the sea that salutes us free proclaims them stricken,
acclaims thee crowned.

Times may change, and the skies grow strange with signs of treason
and fraud and fear:
Foes in union of strange communion may rise against thee from far
and near:
Sloth and greed on thy strength may feed as cankers waxing from
year to year.

Yet, though treason and fierce unreason should league and lie and
defame and smite,
We that know thee, how far below thee the hatred burns of the sons
of night,
We that love thee, behold above thee the witness written of life in
light.

Life that shines from thee shows forth signs that none may read not
but eyeless foes:
Hate, born blind, in his abject mind grows hopeful now but as
madness grows:
Love, born wise, with exultant eyes adores thy glory, beholds and
glows.

Truth is in thee, and none may win thee to lie, forsaking the face
of truth:
Freedom lives by the grace she gives thee, born again from thy
deathless youth:
Faith should fail, and the world turn pale, wert thou the prey of
the serpent's tooth.

Greed and fraud, unabashed, unawed, may strive to sting thee at
heel in vain:
Craft and fear and mistrust may leer and mourn and murmur and plead
and plain:
Thou art thou: and thy sunbright brow is hers that blasted the
strength of Spain.

Mother, mother