Part 4

Surely peace comes. As sure as Man Rose from primeval slime. That was not yesterday. There's still A weary height to climb!

And we can dwell too long with dreams And play too much with words, Forgetting our inheritance Was bought and held with swords.

But Truth (you say) makes tyrants quail-- Beats down embattled Wrong? If truth be armed! Be not deceived. The strife is to the strong.

Words are not guns. Words are not ships. And ships and guns prevail. Our liberties, that blood has gained, Are guarded, or they fail.

Truth does not triumph without blows, Error not tamely yields. But falsehood closes with quick faith, Fierce, on a thousand fields.

And surely, somewhat of that faith Our fathers fought for clings! Which called this freedom's hemisphere, Despite Earth's leagued kings.

Great creeds grow thews, or else they die. Thought clothed in deed is lord. What are thy gods? Thy gods brought love? They also brought a sword.

Unchallenged, shall we always stand, Secure, apart, aloof? Be not deceived. That hour shall come Which puts us to the proof.

Then, that we hold the trust we have Safeguarded for our sons, Let us cease dreaming! Let us have More ships, more troops, more guns!

WITH THE SUBMARINES

ABOVE, the baffled twilight fails; beneath, the blind snakes creep; Beside us glides the charnel shark, our pilot through the deep; And, lurking where low headlands shield from cruising scout and spy, We bide the signal through the gloom that bids us slay or die.

All watchful, mute, the crouching guns that guard the strait sea lanes-- Watchful and hawklike, plumed with hate, the desperate aeroplanes-- And still as death and swift as fate, above the darkling coasts, The spying Wireless sows the night with troops of stealthy ghosts,

While hushed through all her huddled streets the tide-walled city waits The drumming thunders that announce brute battle at her gates.

Southward a hundred windy leagues, through storms that blind and bar, Our cheated cruisers search the waves, our captains seek the war; But here the port of peril is; the foeman's dreadnoughts ride Sullen and black against the moon, upon a sullen tide. And only we to launch ourselves against their stark advance-- To guide uncertain lightnings through these treacherous seas of chance!

. . . . . .

And now a wheeling searchlight paints a signal on the night; And now the bellowing guns are loud with the wild lust of fight.

. . . . . .

And now, her flanks of steel apulse with all the power of hell, Forth from the darkness leaps in pride a hateful miracle, The flagship of their Admiral--and now God help and save!-- We challenge Death at Death's own game; we sink beneath the wave!

. . . . . .

Ah, steady now--and one good blow--one straight stab through the gloom-- Ah, good!--the thrust went home!--she founders-- flounders to her doom!-- Full speed ahead!--those damned quick-firing guns --but let them bark-- What's that--the dynamos?--they've got us, men! --Christ! in the dark!

NICHOLAS OF MONTENEGRO

(1912)

HE speaks as straight as his rifles shot, As straight as a thrusting blade, Waiting the deed that shall trouble the truce His savage guns have made.

"You have dared the wrath of a dozen states," Was the challenge that he heard; "We can die but once!" said the grim old King As he gripped his mountain sword.

"For I paid in blood for the town I took, The blood of my brave men slain,-- And if you covet the town I took You must buy it with blood again!"

Stern old King of the stark, black hills, Where the lean, fierce eagles breed, Your speech rings true as your good sword rings-- And you are a king indeed!

DICKENS

"The only book that the party had was a volume of Dickens. During the six months that they lay in the cave which they had hacked in the ice, waiting for spring to come, they read this volume through again and again."--From a newspaper report of an antarctic expedition.