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It comes from the misty ages,
The banner of England’s might,
The blood-red cross of the brave St. George,
That burns on a field of white
It speaks of the deathless heroes
On fame’s bright page inscrolled,
And bids great England ne’er forget
The glorious deeds of old!
O’er many a cloud of battle
The banner has floated wide
It shone like a star o’er the valiant hearts
That dashed the Armada’s pride!
For ever amid the thunders
The sailor could do or die,
While tongues of flame leaped forth below
And the flag of St. George was high
O ne’er may the flag belove
Unfurl in a strife unblest,
But ever give strength to the righteous arm,
And hope to the hearts oppressed!
It says to the passing ages:
“Be brave if your cause be right,
Like the soldier saint whose cross of red
Still burns on your banner white!”
Great race, whose empire of splendour
Has dazzled the wondering world!
May the flag that floats o’er thy wide domai
Be long to all winds unfurled!
Three crosses in concord blended,
The banner of Britain’s might!
But the central gem of the ensign fair
Is the cross of the dauntless Knight!
— Shapcott Wensley