I

England, the strain of weakness in thee shows Like to some fell distemper which doth threat Thy noble life with blight, and doth beget Many malignant sores. The evil flows Not from one source, but gradually grows With thine own growth of years, wherein are met All the deep instincts that did ever fret The soul of freedom against freedom’s foes. But whatsoe’er the form, the effect is one; Some great cause grandly tried and bravely lost, Some work of beauty marred upon the loom, And at the final reckoning, something done, Yet at a bitter and a fearful cost-- In broken hearts and many a needless tomb.

HESEPE, 25th June