IT is not to be thought of that the Flood Of British freedom, which, to the open sea Of the world's praise, from dark antiquity Hath flowed, "with pomp of waters, unwithstood," Roused though it be full often to a mood Which spurns the check of salutary bands, That this most famous Stream in bogs and sands Should perish; and to evil and to good Be lost for ever. In our halls is hung Armoury of the invincible Knights of old: We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakspeare spake; the faith and morals hold Which Milton held. -- In everything we are sprung Of Earth's first blood, have titles manifold. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TYRANNICK [TYRANNIC] LOVE: PROLOGUE by JOHN DRYDEN A NEWPORT ROMANCE by FRANCIS BRET HARTE MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 12 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI ISN'T IT TRUE! by BERNICE GIBBS ANDERSON SONG, FR. THE LOVER'S PROGRESS by FRANCIS BEAUMONT RETREATS by CARRIE ADAMS BERRY |