Nonfiction > E.C. Stedman & E.M. Hutchinson, eds. > A Library of American Literature > 1861–1889
Stedman and Hutchinson, comps.  A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes.  1891.
Vols. IX–XI: Literature of the Republic, Part IV., 1861–1889
At Gibraltar
By George Edward Woodberry (1855–1930)
[From The North Shore Watch, and Other Poems. 1890.]

ENGLAND, I stand on thy imperial ground,
  Not all a stranger; as thy bugles blow,
  I feel within my blood old battles flow—
The blood whose ancient founts in thee are found.
Still surging dark against the Christian bound        5
  Wide Islam presses; well its peoples know
  Thy heights that watch them wandering below;
I think how Lucknow heard their gathering sound.
I turn, and meet the cruel, turbaned face.
  England, ’tis sweet to be so much thy son!        10
I feel the conqueror in my blood and race;
  Last night Trafalgar awed me, and to-day
Gibraltar wakened; hark, thy evening gun
  Startles the desert over Africa!
Thou art the rock of empire, set mid-seas
  Between the East and West, that God has built;
  Advance thy Roman borders where thou wilt,
While run thy armies true with his decrees;
Law, justice, liberty—great gifts are these;
  Watch that they spread where English blood is spilt,        20
  Lest, mixed and sullied with his country’s guilt,
The soldier’s life-stream flow, and Heaven displease!
Two swords there are: one naked, apt to smite,
  Thy blade of war; and, battle-storied, one
Rejoices in the sheath, and hides from light.        25
  American I am; would wars were done!
Now westward, look, my country bids good-night,—
  Peace to the world from ports without a gun!

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