The Celt, he is proud in his protest, The Scot, he is calm in his place, For each has a word in the ruling and doom Of the Empire that honors his race; And the Englishman, doggèd and grim, Looks the world in the face as he goes, And he holds a proud lip, for he sails his own ship, And he cares not for rivals nor foes:-- But lowest and last, with his areas vast, And horizon so servile and tame, Sits the poor beggar Colonial Who feeds on the crumbs of her fame.
He knows no place in her councils, He holds no part in the word That girdles the world with its thunders When the fiat of Britain is heard:-- He beats no drums to her battles, He gives no triumphs her name, But lowest and last, with his areas vast, He feeds on the crumbs of her fame.
How long, O how long, the dishonor, The servile and suppliant place? Are we Britons who batten upon her, Or degenerate sons of the race? It is souls that make nations, not numbers, As our forefathers proved in the past. Let us take up the burden of empire, Or nail our own flag to the mast. Doth she care for us, value us, want us, Or are we but pawns in the game; Where lowest and last, with our areas vast, We feed on the crumbs of her fame?
I stand in Edinburgh, in Holyrood, Where Scotland's Mary flaunted; iron Knox came, With cavernous eyes and words of prophet-flame, And broke her soul as bonds of brittle wood:-- And all stern Scotland's evil and her good, Her austere ghosts, her souls of fiery shame, Her adamantine passions none could tame, Arise anew and drip in Rizzio's blood.
Here in these walls, these guilty corridors, Beside[4] that bed where Elizabeth's eyes look down;-- Across the centuries with their fading band Of angry years of Presbyterian frown,-- I only know these tears[5] of weird remorse; The woman rules. All else is shifting sand.
[4] In Queen Mary's bedroom in Holyrood, a portrait of Queen Elizabeth hangs on the wall above the bed.
[5] It is said that Knox, during this memorable interview, made the Queen weep.
(This poem is founded on the confession of a man who went with one of the expeditions to save Sir John Franklin's party, and who, being sent ahead, saw signs of them, but, through cowardice, was afraid to tell.)