Midst golden Streets of Commerce Why shines the blaze of Arms? The human hive is stirring, What cause its peace alarms? From desk and counter thronging, From civic feasts and halls, The Londoners come pouring, For hark! their country calls. The thunder of the battle To them is new and strange; They're used to the hurry of traffick And buzz of the crowded 'Change. They seek not pay or plunder, They pray that wars may cease; Their joy is not in slaughter, For they are sons of peace. Yet, Frenchmen, dread the onset When men like these unite; For they have sworn to perish Or vanquish you in fight. Of this land so fair and goodly Which your ambition craves, No foot they mean to yield you But what will find you graves. Than all your boasted tactics More strength the thought will lend That Brother stands by Brother, And friend supports his friend. With tears and blessing cover'd Of Mothers and of Wives, They go to sell full dearly Such dearly valued lives. Their infants smile to see them In such uncouth attire; No tongue can tell the fury Those artless smiles inspire. Round many an altar kneeling With fervent lip and eye, Lo! Sires and Virgins pleading; Such prayers ascend on high. Now sound the Trumpets cheerly, Let all your banners wave; The Londoners are marching To Glory or a Grave. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO HIS SON, VINCENT CORBET, ON HIS THIRD BIRTHDAY by RICHARD CORBET GLADYS AND HER ISLAND; AN IMPERFECT TALE WITH DOUBTFUL MORAL by JEAN INGELOW THE NEW EZEKIEL by EMMA LAZARUS THE FIRST SNOWFALL by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL AIRY NOTHINGS. FR. THE TEMPEST by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 39 by PHILIP SIDNEY THE PILGRIM by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |