Type of the West, and glorying in the name <br />More than in Faith's pure fame! <br />Oh. trust not crafty fort nor rock renowned <br />Earned upon hostile ground; <br />Wielding Trade's master-keys, at thy proud will <br />To lock or loose its waters, England! trust not still. <br /> <br />Dread thine own power! Since haughty Babel's prime, <br />High towers have been man's crime. <br />Since her hoar age, when the huge moat lay bare, <br />Strongholds have been man's snare. <br />Thy nest is in the crags; ah, refuge frail! <br />Mad counsel in its hour, or traitors, will prevail. <br /> <br />He who scanned Sodom for His righteous men <br />Still spares thee for thy ten; <br />But, should vain tongues the Bride of Heaven defy, <br />He will not pass thee by; <br />For, as earth's kings welcome their spotless guest, <br />So gives He them by turn, to suffer or be blest.<br /><br />John Henry Newman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/england/
