IV.

England, the land I loved

With passionate pride,

For hate of whom I live

Who for love had died,

Can I, while shines the sun,

That hour regain

When I again may come to thee

And love again?

No, not while that flag

Of greed and lust

Flaunts in the air, untaught

To drag the dust!—

Never, till expiant,

I see you kneel,

And, brandished, gleams aloft

The foeman's steel!

Ah, then to speed, and laugh,

As my heart caught the knife:

“Mother, I love you! Here,

Here is my life!”