Keeping his word, the promised Roman kept <br />Enough of worded breath to live till now. <br />Our Regulus was free of plighted vow <br />Or tacit debt: skies fell, seas leapt, storms swept; <br />Death yawned: with a mere step he might have stept <br />To life. But the House-master would know how <br />To do the master's honours; and did know, <br />And did them to the hour of rest, and slept <br />The last of all his house. Oh, thou heart's-core <br />Of Truth, how will the nations sentence thee? <br />Hark! as loud Europe cries 'Could man do more?' <br />Great England lifts her head from her distress, <br />And answers 'But could Englishman do less?' <br />Ah England! goddess of the years to be!<br /><br />Sydney Thompson Dobell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/john-bohun-martin/
