She hath calls and cries of her own.

VIII

There was never a dale in our isle so deep

That her wide wings were not free

To soar to the sovran heights and keep

Sight of the rolling sea:

Is it there, is it here in the rolling skies,

The realm of her future fame?

Look once, look once in her glittering eyes,

Ye shall find her the same, the same.

Up to the sides with the hawk, the hawk,

As it was in the days of old!

Ye shall sail once more, ye shall soar, ye shall soar

To the new-found realms of gold.

[Pg 24]

IX

She hath ridden on white Arabian steeds

Thro' the ringing English dells,

For the joy of a great queen, hunting in state,

To the music of golden bells;

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