Foreign Menace

I marvel that this land, whereof I claim The glory of sonship--for it was erewhile A glory to be sprung of Britain's isle, Though now it well-nigh more resembles shame-- I marvel that this land with heart so tame Can brook the northern insolence and guile. But most it angers me, to think how vile Art thou, how base, from whom the insult came, Unwieldly laggard, many an age behind Thy sister Powers, in brain and conscience both; In recognition of man's widening mind And flexile adaptation to its growth: Brute bulk, that bearest on thy back, half loth, One wretched man, most pitied of mankind.