Read Puck of Pook's Hill Page 15

  A BRITISH-ROMAN SONG

  (A. D. 406)

  _My father's father saw it not,_ _And I, belike, shall never come,_ _To look on that so-holy spot--_ _The very Rome--_

  _Crowned by all Time, all Art, all Might,_ _The equal work of Gods and Man--_ _City beneath whose oldest height_ _The Race began,--_

  _Soon to send forth again a brood_ _Unshakeable, we pray, that clings,_ _To Rome's thrice-hammered hardihood--_ _In arduous things._

  _Strong heart with triple armour bound,_ _Beat strongly, for thy life-blood runs,_ _Age after Age, the Empire round--_ _In us thy Sons,_

  _Who, distant from the Seven Hills,_ _Loving and serving much, require_ _Thee, Thee to guard 'gainst home-born ills,_ _The Imperial Fire!_

  ON THE GREAT WALL