Strewing the hills for me,
Claiming the world in dying, Bought with their blood for me.
Hear the grey, old, Northern Mother,
Blessing now her dying children,—
God keep you safe for me,
Christ watch you in your sleeping, Where ye have died for me!
And when God's own slogan soundeth,
All the dead world's dust awaking,
Ah, will ye look for me?
Bravely we'll stand together
I and my sons with me.
Drake in the North Sea grimly prowling,
Treading his dear Revenge's deck,
Watched with the sea-dogs round him growling,
Galleons drifting wreck by wreck.
"Fetter and Faith for England's neck,
Faggot and Father, Saint and chain,
Yonder the Devil and all go howling,
Devon, O Devon, in wind and rain!"
Drake at the last off Nombre lying,
Knowing the night that toward him crept,
Gave to the sea-dogs round him crying
This for a sign before he slept :-
"Pride of the West! What Devon hath kept
Devon shall keep on tide or main;
Call to the storm and drive them flying,
Devon, O Devon, in wind and rain!"
Valour of England gaunt and whitening,
Far in a South land brought to bay,
Locked in a death-grip all day tightening,
Waited the end in twilight grey.
Battle and storm and the sea-dog's way!
Drake from his long rest turned again,
Victory lit thy steel with lightning,
Devon, O Devon, in wind and rain!
Gentle herdsman, tell me, pray,
Unto the town of Ladysmith
Which is the right and ready way?
The way is easy to be gone,
Although to use but lately won;
And though across the thirsty waste
And o'er the veldt but faintly traced,
For scarce yet green, on either hand,
Are graves that mark in that new land
The long lone way to Ladysmith.
Then tell me, gentle herdsman, pray,
Upon the road to Ladysmith
Whose are the graves that mark the way?
The graves are theirs who died to give
To Freedom room and right to live;
She called them years and years ago—
How they made answer all men know
At Badajos-Trafalgar Bay-
At Waterloo, and yesterday
They spoke once more at Ladysmith.
Then, gentle herdsman, tell me, pray,
Now men go free to Ladysmith
If they will rest who made the way.
Ah, pilgrim, never will they rest
While East is severed from the West;
For they unweariedly must tramp
At Freedom's call from camp to camp;
And many a road for men to tread
Must yet be guarded by their dead,—
As this which leads to Ladysmith.
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