Northumberland

Between our eastward and our westward sea
    The narrowing strand
Clasps close the noblest shore fame holds in fee
Even here where English birth seals all men free-
    Northumberland.

The sea-mists meet across it when the snow
    Clothes moor and fell,
And bid their true-born hearts who love it glow
For joy that none less nobly born may know
    What love knows well.

The splendour and the strength of storm and fight
    Sustain the song
That filled our fathers' hearts with joy to smite,
To live, to love, to lay down life that right
    Might tread down wrong.

They warred, they sang, they triumphed, and they passed,
    And left us glad
Here to be born, their sons, whose hearts hold fast
The proud old love no change can overcast,
    No chance leave sad.

None save our northmen ever, none but we,
    Met, pledged, or fought
Such foes and friends as Scotland and the sea
With heart so high and equal, strong in glee
    And stern in thought.

Thought, fed from time's memorial springs with pride,
    Made strong as fire
Their hearts who hurled the foe down Flodden side,
And hers who rode the waves none else durst ride--
    None save her sire.

O land beloved, where nought of legend's dream
    Outshines the truth,
Where Joyous Gard, closed round with clouds that gleam
For them that know thee not, can scarce but seem
    Too sweet for sooth,

Thy sons forget not, nor shall fame forget,
    The deed there done
Before the walls whose fabled fame is yet
A light too sweet and strong to rise and set
    With moon and sun.

Song bright as flash of swords or oars that shine
    Through fight or foam
Stirs yet the blood thou hast given thy sons like wine
To hail in each bright ballad hailed as thine
    One heart, one home.

Our Collingwood, though Nelson be not ours,
   By him shall stand
Immortal, till those waifs of oldworld hours,
Forgotten, leave uncrowned with bays and flowers
    Northumberland.

Whose thought has fathomed and measured
  The darkness of life and of death,
The secret within them treasured,
  The spirit that is not breath?
Whose vision has yet beholden
  The splendour of death and of life?
Though sunset as dawn be golden,
  Is the word of them peace, not strife?
Deep silence answers: the glory
  We dream of may be but a dream,
And the sun of the soul wax hoary
  As ashes that show not a gleam.
But well shall it be with us ever
  Who drive through the darkness here,
If the soul that we live by never,
  For aught that a lie saith, fear.