<html xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><body><h1 align="center" class="head">The Song of the Britons</h1><div class="stanza"><p class="subhead">The Dead</p><p class="line"><span class="smallcaps">Deep</span> beneath the fallen years,</p><p class="line">Slain by glittering foemen's spears,</p><p class="line">With empty hands and a brow uncrowned,</p><p class="line">To our native land our eyes we turn</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:4%">By snares encompassed round.</p><p class="line">Ah! God, as we gaze our steeled hearts yearn!</p><p class="line">About her head, like a wind that veers,</p><p class="line">The vultures of war whirl thick in the skies,</p><p class="line">Hate in their hearts, in their gleaming eyes</p><p class="line">Hate, and she stands, gentle of breath,</p><p class="line">Watching the venomous eyes of Death!</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">O would we could range there, row on row,</p><p class="line">Facing her foes at our sons' right hand,</p><p class="line">Sunder them, sift them like dust, and go</p><p class="line">Deathwards again for our motherland.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="subhead">The Living</p><p class="line">Lord God of Hosts, within Thy keeping hold</p><p class="line">Our motherland! With mercies manifold</p><p class="line">And gracious gifts divine point Thou the way</p><p class="line">Her feet shall follow to the Judgment Day,</p><p class="line">Lord God of Hosts!</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:18%">When for the great assize</p><p class="line">Thy trumpet sounds, O grant her strength to rise,</p><p class="line">Peerless from her omnipotent estate,</p><p class="line">With honour, power, and fame inviolate,</p><p class="line">Lord God of Hosts!</p></div><p class="byline">ANTHONY KIRBY GILL</p><em>Pall Mall Gazelle, August</em> 5, 1914</body></html> · Great War