Iii

Shelley, lyric lord of England's lordliest singers, here first heard Ring from lips of poets crowned and dead the Promethean word Whence his soul took fire, and power to outsoar the sunward-soaring bird.

Still the reaches of the river, still the light on field and hill, Still the memories held aloft as lamps for hope's young fire to fill, Shine, and while the light of England lives shall shine for England still.

When four hundred more and fifty years have risen and shone and set, Bright with names that men remember, loud with names that men forget, Haply here shall Eton's record be what England finds it yet.