A National Ode for the Angrians

The Sun is on the Calabar, the Dawn is quenched in day
The stars of night are vanishing, her shadows flee away
The sandy plains of Etrei, flash back arising light
And The wild wastes of Northangerland, gleam bright as heaven is bright
Zamorna lifts her fruitful hills, like Edens to the sky,
And fair as Enna's field of flowers, her golden prairies lie
And Angria calls from mount, & vale from wood & heather dell,
A song of joy and thankfulness on rushing winds to swell
For Romalla has put his robe of regal purple on
And from the crags of Pendlebrow the russet garb is gone
And Boulsworth off his Giant sides rolls down the vapours dim.
And Hawkscliffe's bright & bowery glades uplift their matin hymn
The ancient hills of Sydenham have never felt the glow
Of such a dawn as that which burns their blushing summits now
The fields, the woods of Edwardston are full of song and dew
Olympia's waves glance clear, along their wandering line of blue;
Green Arundel has caught the ray upspringing from the east
Guadima rolls exultingly with sunshine on his breast
All Angria through her provinces to arms and glory cries
Her sun is up, and she has heard her battle-shout “Arise”!
My Kingdom's Gallant Gentlemen are gathered like a host;
With such a bold and noble band was never conflict lost
For they would fight till red blood burst in sweat-drops from their brow
And never to the victor's yoke their Lion-Souls would bow,
Enara on the Douro's banks his serfs is gathering
From Hut and Hall on the highland heath the sons of Warner spring
And Howard o'er his breezy moors the bugle blast has blown
O! Leopard-swift are the ready feet that answer to that tone
The Gor-cock quailed at the summons shrill unconquered Agar sent
And a living whirlwind crossed the Tracks that marked the withered bent
Proud Moray called from the Calabar his vassals to the fight
And the lord of Southwood joyously has raised the flags of light
Segovia's dark Italian eye is lit with high-born pride
And the Chevalier of Arundel has bade his horsemen ride
Young Stuart in the ranks of war uplifts his lofty plume
And Roslyn like a red-deer bounds from the depths of mountain gloom
And Seymour's heir, has heard a voice come from the ancient dead
At once th' ancestral dauntlessness through all his veins was shed
But the sullen flag of Percy swells most proudly to the breeze
As haughtily the folds unfurl as if they swept the seas:
Patrician Pirate! on each side his blighting glance is flung
The silent scorn that curls his lip can never know a tongue
Upon his melancholy brow, a melancholy shade,
Like snow-wreaths on Aornus' slope eternally is laid:
But The Son of that tremendous Sire amid the throng appears
His second self, unpetrified by the chill lapse of years;
A form of noblest energy, most sternly beautiful!
A scymitar whose tempered edge, no time can ever dull
A sword unflashed, a quenchless, flame, a fixed & radiant star
A noble steed caparisoned, which snuffs the fight afar
The Glory of his youthful brow the light of his blue eye
Will flash upon the battle's verge like arrows of the sky
With such a host, with such a train what hand can stop our path
Who can withstand the torrents strength when it shall roll in wrath
Lift, Lift the scarlet banner up! Fling all its folds abroad
And let its bloody lustre fall on Afric's blasted sod
For gore shall run where it has been & blighted bones shall lie
Wherever the sun-standard swelled against the stormy sky
And when our battle-trumpets sound & when our bugles sing
The vulture from its distant rock shall spread its glancing wing
And the Gaunt wolf at that signal cry shall gallop to the feast
A table in the wilderness we'll spread for bird & beast
We'll sheath not the avenging sword till earth & sea & skies
Through all God's mighty Universe shout back “Arise! Arise”!
Till Angria reign's Lord Paramount wherever human tongue
The slave's lament, the conqueror's hymn in woe or bliss hath sung.
Translation: 
Language: 
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.