Fair islands of the silver fleece, <br />Hoards of unsunned, uncounted gold, <br />Whose havens are the haunts of Peace, <br />Whose boys are in our quarrel bold; <br />OUR bolt is shot, our tale is told, <br />Our ship of state in storms may toss, <br />But ye are young if we are old, <br />Ye Islands of the Southern Cross! <br /> <br />Ay, WE must dwindle and decrease, <br />Such fates the ruthless years unfold; <br />And yet we shall not wholly cease, <br />We shall not perish unconsoled; <br />Nay, still shall Freedom keep her hold <br />Within the sea's inviolate fosse, <br />And boast her sons of English mould, <br />Ye Islands of the Southern Cross! <br /> <br />All empires tumble--Rome and Greece - <br />Their swords are rust, their altars cold! <br />For us, the Children of the Seas, <br />Who ruled where'er the waves have rolled, <br />For us, in Fortune's books enscrolled, <br />I read no runes of hopeless loss; <br />Nor--while YE last--our knell is tolled, <br />Ye Islands of the Southern Cross! <br /> <br />ENVOY. <br /> <br />Britannia, when thy hearth's a-cold, <br />When o'er thy grave has grown the moss, <br />Still Rule Australia shall be trolled <br />In Islands of the Southern Cross!<br /><br />Andrew Lang<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ballade-of-the-southern-cross/
