Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/48

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Gaze proudly on, my English Boy! And let thy kindling mind Drink in the spirit of high thought From every chainless wind!

There, in the shadow of old Time, The halls beneath thee lie, Which pour'd forth to the fields of yore, Our England's chivalry.

How bravely and how solemnly They stand, 'midst oak and yew! Whence Cressy's yeomen haply framed The bow, in battle true.

And round their walls the good swords hang Whose faith knew no alloy, And shields of knighthood, pure from stain— Gaze on, my English Boy!