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of our Landmarks swept away! Another Bulwark of the Faith which clings To nobler objects than the Present brings, The money-purchased Glories of To-day, Self-preached, self-praised! Great Moralists are They Beneath whose teaching in a Nation springs The love—or even the consciousness—of things For which we must do something more than pay: Fight must we—suffer—hardest task, must wait, While slowly-mustering Ages consecrate The Monuments which form a People's heart: England, who can see thee as thou art, Irreverent, vain, the fool of pelf and prate, Nor tremble as thy Monitors depart?