A British-Roman Song

 (A.
 D.
 406)

"A Centurion of the Thirtieth" -- Puck of Pook's Hill

My father's father saw it not,
 And I, belike, shall never come 
To look on that so-holly spot--
 That very Rome--

Crowned by all Time, all Art, all Might,
 The equal work of Gods and Man,
City beneath whose oldest height--
 The Race began!

 Soon to send forth again a brood,
 Unshakable, we pray, that clings
 To Rome's thrice-hammered hardihood--
 In arduous things.


 Strong heart with triple armour bound,
 Beat strongly, for thy life-blood runs,
 Age after Age, the Empire round--
 In us thy Sons

 Who, distant from the Seven Hills,
 Loving and serving much, require
 Thee-thee to guard 'gainst home-born ills
 The Imperial Fire!

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