From dens in forests dark and deep
Wraith charcoal-burners rise,
And grisly shades of swineherds creep
With anger-reddened eyes;
Into the light of beach and bird
They burst, a grimy flood —
Boadicea's prayers are heard,
Her daughters washed in blood!

O limbs like forest limbs and roots!
O boar-spear, club and dirk —
The common cause of men and brutes —
And these did England's work!

The Romans came and went again
By conquered land and sea;
The Saxon, Norman and the Dane
Are British, and are we.
The blood absorbed each conquering host,
And now for us they fight;
The ghost of Harold guards the coast,
And Saxons rest to-night.

The beacons burned, the captains turned
And put to sea again;
And where were all the men and gold
And great tall ships of Spain?
The Prussian sneered at England's death
Before his sun had set;
The Shade of Queen Elizabeth
Rides down to Dover yet!

It was a dour and bitter way,
The path that Cromwell rode;
But he made England clean at home,
The English safe abroad.
And once again the king of Spain,
In sorrow and in tears,
Could curse each Englishman he'd caught
And sold into Algiers.

The Prussian scorned the Britisher
In sunshine and in rain;
Nor deemed he'd dare to throw a troop
Across the Straits again.
He fixed the eyeglass of the fool
And said, " Eh, what? " and " Haw! "
And what to-day is Prussian rule
Compared with English law?

The spirit of a single race,
From London round to Bourke —
The slouch hat and the careless jest;
And these did England's work.