Classic Poem

Our own and Europe's safety met in one;
And so we sent our warriors to the field,
Or launch'd them on the deep, our arms to wield;
But ah! when Christian honour pleads alone,
When nought is lost by abstinence from war,
And nought is urgent save a sister's prayer,
We shirk the purer mission, and prepare
To close our armouries with bolt and bar;
We give into the callous hands of trade
Our living hearts—all martial help forbear—
For fear the stirring gun-smoke should invade
Our marts, or smutch our commerce here and there;
We furl our flag, as shopmen in a trice
Roll up the web, that will not fetch a price.