A Quote For March 20th, Twenty-Twelve

Cities and Thrones and Powers by Rudyard Kipling

Cities and Thrones and Powers,
Stand in Time's eye,
Almost as long as flowers,
Which daily die:
But, as new buds put forth
To glad new men,
Out of the spent and unconsidered Earth,
The Cities rise again.

This season's Daffodil,
She never hears,
What change, what chance, what chill,
Cut down last year's;
But with bold countenance,
And knowledge small,
Esteems her seven days' continuance,
To be perpetual.

So Time that is o'er -kind,
To all that be,
Ordains us e'en as blind,
As bold as she:
That in our very death,
And burial sure,
Shadow to shadow, well persuaded, saith,
"See how our works endure!"

My Life Motto

P.S.: Not is it only my life motto (after God Save the Queen and For God, Queen, and Country), but it actually does work. As always, those in history had their heads about them when it came to sensible attitudes and ideals.

A Quote For March 19th, Twenty-Twelve

France by Rudyard Kipling

Broke to every known mischance, lifted over all
By the light sane joy of life, the buckler of the Gaul,
Furious in luxury, merciless in toil,
Terrible with strength that draws from her tireless soil;
Strictest judge of her own worth, gentlest of man's mind,
First to follow Truth and last to leave old Truths behind-
France beloved of every soul that loves its fellow-kind!

Ere our birth (rememberest thou?) side by side we lay
Fretting in the womb of Rome to begin our fray.
Ere men knew our tongues apart, our one task was known-
Each to mould the other's fate as he wrought his own.
To this end we stirred mankind till all Earth was ours,
Till our world-end strifes begat wayside Thrones and Powers-
Puppets that we made or broke to bar the other's path-
Necessary, outpost-folk, hirelings of our wrath.
To this end we stormed the seas, tack for tack, and burst
Through the doorways of new worlds, doubtful which was first,
Hand on hilt (rememberest thou?) ready for the blow-
Sure, whatever else we met, we should meet our foe.
Spurred or balked at every stride by the other's strength,
So we rode the ages down and every ocean's length!

Where did you refrain from us or we refrain from you?
Ask the wave that has not watched war between us two?
Others held us for a while, but with weaker charms,
These we quitted at the call for each other's arms.
Eager toward the known delight, equally we strove-
Each the other's mystery, terror, need, and love.
To each other's open court with our proofs we came.
Where could we find honour else, or men to test our claim!
From each other's throat we wrenched-valour's last reward -
That extorted word of praise gasped 'twixt lunge and guard,
In each other's cup we poured mingled blood and tears,
Brutal joys, unmeasured hopes, intolerable fears-
All that soiled or salted life for a thousand years.
Proved beyond the need of proof, matched in every clime,
O Companion, we have lived greatly through all time!

Yoked in knowledge and remorse, now we come to rest,
Laughing at old villainies that Time has turned to jest;
Pardoning old necessities no pardon can efface-
That undying sin we shared in Rouen market-place.
Now we watch the new years shape, wondering if they hold
Fiercer lightnings in their heart than we launched of old.
Now we hear new voices rise, question, boast or gird,
As we raged (rememberest thou?) when our crowds were stirred.
Now we count new keels afloat, and new hosts on land,
Massed like ours (rememberest thou?) when our strokes were planned.
We were schooled for dear life's sake, to know each other's blade.
What can Blood and Iron make more than we have made?
We have learned by keenest use to know each other's mind,
What shall Blood and Iron loose that we cannot bind?
We who swept each other's coast, sacked each other's home,
Since the sword of Brennus clashed on the scales at Rome,
Listen, count and close again, wheeling girth to girth,
In the linked and steadfast guard set for peace on earth!

Broke to every known mischance, lifted over all
By the light sane joy of life, the buckler of the Gaul;
Furious in luxury, merciless in toil,
Terrible with strength renewed from a tireless soil;
Strictest judge of her own worth, gentlest of man's mind,
First to face the Truth and last to leave old Truths behind-
France, beloved of every soul that loves or serves its kind!

A Quote For March 18th, Twenty-Twelve

 The Dutch in the Medway by Rudyard Kipling
                 1664-72

If wars were won by feasting,
  0r victory by song,
Or safety found in sleeping sound,
  How England would be strong!
But honour and dominion
  Are not maintained so.
They're only got by sword and shot,
  And this the Dutchmen know!

The moneys that should feed us
  You spend on your delight,
How can you then have sailor-men
  To aid you in your fight?
Our fish and cheese are rotten,
  Which makes the scurvy grow--
We cannot serve you if we starve,
  And this the Dutchmen now!

Our ships in every harbour
  Be neither whole nor sound,
And, when we seek to mend a leak,
  No oakum can be found;
Or, if it is, the caulkers,
  And carpenters also,
For lack of pay have gone away,
  And this the Dutchmen know!

Mere powder, guns, and bullets,
  We scarce can get at all;
Their price was spent in merriment
  And revel at Whitehall,
While we in tattered doublets
  From ship to ship must row,
Beseeching friends for odds and ends--
   And this the Dutchmen know! 

No King will heed our warnings,
  No Court will pay our claims--
Our King and Court for their disport
  Do sell the very Thames!
For, now De Ruyter's topsails
  Off naked Chatham show,
We dare not meet him with our fleet--
  And this the Dutchmen know!

In Honour of March 17th, This Blog is Wearing Orange

Seeing as the author of this blog is neither Irish or Catholic, but of hardy English and Protestant stock, this blog to-day is wearing Orange.

Harold I of England

The author also marks the 972nd, anniversary of the death of Harold I, or Harold Harefoot, King of England from 1035-1040, and son of Cnut the Great, King of England, Denmark and Norway. Harold I died on March 17th, 1040.

Sir Joseph Austen Chamberlain

It also marks the 75th anniversary of the death of Sir Joseph Austen Chamberlain, an eminent British statesmen who was at various times Postmaster General, First Lord of the Admiralty, Lord Privy Seal, Leader of the House of Commons, Secretary of State for India, Chancellor of the Exchequer, and Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. In addition to this, he was one of the British statesmen who spoke in favour of British re-armament in face of growing Nazi aggression in the 1930s. Here are several select quotes of that which Chamberlain did spake.

No British Government ever will and ever can risk the bones of a British grenadier. 

Revision is a dangerous word which should never appear in the mouth of a statesman or in the policy of a government until they are prepared to define very clearly the limits within which they think it should take place. We have revised and revised and what have we got for it? What concession once made has any longer kept the value it had before it was revised? Of which of these concessions can it be said that it has tempered feeling in Germany, that it has produced friendly spirit that those who made it desired to promote? 

Lastly, the author also marks the 126th anniversary of the birth of  Princess Patricia of Connaught, grand daughter of Her Majesty Queen Victoria. Interestingly, Princess Patricia was a great favourite over here in the Imperial Dominion of Canada, as her father in 1911 was appointed Governor-General of Canada, and she has her own Canadian Regiment named in her honour [Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry]. But we all knew that, did not we? Especially if we studied our history in school.

Princess Victoria Patricia Helena Elizabeth

And, lastly, a cheery poem about England. (Also, it reminds us that April 23rd is St George's Day.)

Saint George is the pride of England's throne,
From east to west he holds his own
And none may dare in their pride to say,
That Saint George's Cross has seen its day
Saint George for merry England

When battle clouds at evening frown,
And the sun of peace in shade goes down,
The meteor flag shall its radiance cast
Lit up by the light of the gorgeous Past
Saint George for merry England.

When armies muster front to front,
That Cross must face the battle-brunt
For the heart of the Briton beats more warm
When he sees that beacon amid the storm:
Saint George for merry England.

Through England's fleet the watchword ran,
"SHE CLAIMS HIS DUTY OF EVERY MAN,"
And forth the standard of battle flew,
And what it signalled each man knew:
Saint George for merry England.

He knew that England's mandate says,-
When life and duty point two ways
The whole world shortly witness can
There's but one choice for the Englishman.
Saint George for merry England.

Beneath that Cross lie stood at bay
On the Belgian plain, through the livelong day,
That Europe's lords might the mettle try
Of Saint George's blood-red infantry.
Saint George for merry England.

The sun sank low on the pride of France
As our Captain said, "Brave Flag, advance!"
And she quailed as she saw the last rays shine
On the triumph step of that thin red line
Saint George for merry England.

Saint George's Cross bars the gates of Day
Where the snow ne'er melts on the Himaleh
That bannered Cross shall wave o'er them
While Japhet dwells in the tents of Shem.
Saint George for merry England.

Blazed high the Cross of the sea-girt isle,
When the death-reek rolled o'er the waves of Nile;
By sea, by land, it peerless is,
For no cheer comes home to the heart like this-
Saint George for merry England.

No plain of Europe lies so far
But has hailed that Cross in the van of war:
But the fairest motto that flag can claim-
I fight for honour and not for fame."
Saint George for merry England.

Old England loves her God too well
For Glory's gold her soul to sell,
And when she arms her for the fight
She arms, FOR GOD AND FOR HER RIGHT.
Saint George for merry England.

Unfurl, brave flag! as thou hast unfurled
Through a thousand years of the changing world,
And be thy Cross as pure from stain
When the thousand years come round again.
Saint George for merry England.

Gerald Moultrie

A Quote For March 17th, Twenty-Twelve

Justice by Rudyard Kipling

October, 1918


Across a world where all men grieve
And grieving strive the more,
The great days range like tides and leave
Our dead on every shore.
Heavy the load we undergo,
And our own hands prepare,
If we have parley with the foe,
The load our sons must bear.

Before we loose the word
That bids new worlds to birth,
Needs must we loosen first the sword
Of Justice upon earth;
Or else all else is vain
Since life on earth began,
And the spent world sinks back again
Hopeless of God and Man.

A People and their King
Through ancient sin grown strong,
Because they feared no reckoning
Would set no bound to wrong;
But now their hour is past,
And we who bore it find
Evil Incarnate hell at last
To answer to mankind.

For agony and spoil
Of nations beat to dust,
For poisoned air and tortured soil
And cold, commanded lust,
And every secret woe
The shuddering waters saw.
Willed and fulfilled by high and low.
Let them relearn the Low.

That when the dooms are read,
Not high nor low shall say:--
" My haughty or my humble head
Was saved me in this day."
That, till the end of time,
Their remnant shall recall
Their fathers old, confederate crime
Availed them not at all.

That neither schools nor priests,
Nor Kings may build again
A people with the heart of beasts
Made wise concerning men.
Whereby our dead shall sleep
In honour, unbetrayed,
And we in faith and honour keep
That peace for which they paid

A Quote For March 16th, Twenty-Twelve

A Pageant of Elizabeth by Rudyard Kipling

Written for "The Pageant of Parliament," 1934


Like Princes crowned they bore them--
Like Demi-Gods they wrought,
When the New World lay before them
In headlong fact and thought.
Fate and their foemen proved them
Above all meed of praise,
And Gloriana loved them,
And Shakespeare wrote them plays!
. . . . . . .
Now Valour, Youth, and Life's delight break forth
In flames of wondrous deed, and thought sublime---
Lightly to mould new worlds or lightly loose
Words that shall shake and shape all after-time!

Giants with giants, wits with wits engage,
And England-England-England takes the breath
Of morning, body and soul, till the great Age
Fulfills in one great chord:--Elizabeth!