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Alfred Austin - Wardens Of The Wave
Work rating: Medium

Not to exult in braggart vein
 Over a gallant foe,
 Or boast of triumphs on the main,
 The Gods alone bestow;
 Vainglorious clarion, clamorous drum,
 For which the vulgar crave,
 Not these, not any such, become
 The Wardens of the Wave.

 No, but when slumbering war—dogs wake,
 To the last gasp of breath
 Face combat for one`s Country`s sake,
 With male disdain of death;
 For this did Nelson live and die,
 Far from his Land and home,
 Making his roof—tree of the sky,
 His pillow on the foam.

 And if our race to—day recall
 His last triumphant doom,
 Place wreaths on his unfading pall,
 And flowers upon his tomb,
 `Tis to remind us still to keep
 Aggression`s lust in awe,
 And with dominion of the deep
 Guard Freedom, Peace, and Law.

 And not alone upon the waves
 That sentinel our shore,
 Service that disciplines, not enslaves,
 Should rule us, as of yore;
 So that our Island Citadel
 May tranquilly respond
 With the calm signal, ``All is well,``
 To every Sea Beyond.
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