Page:Tales-of-Banks-Peninsula Jacobson 2ed 1893 cropped.pdf/306

To sons of the fair land of joy, of chivalry and song,
Who meant to seize its favoured shores, and hold them firm and strong.
Then all the Viking spirit rose in that small British band;
What! Should they lose this favoured isle, this lovely southern land?
Perish the thought! Should England’s might like this be trampled down?
A gem lost from her diadem, a jewel from her crown!
So on her mission of emprise the Britomart was sent;
True Argonauts were those brave hearts who in the vessel went,
For sure they searched not vainly, and the fruit their wanderings bore
Was not a single golden fleece, but many a million more!
We know the end—with high result the British dart was sped,
And in the race for empire, our doughty champions led.
They gained our shores; and loud the cheers that rang across our seas
As old St. George’s glorious cross flew bravely in the breeze.
A greater or a happier day Zealandia never saw,
Than this, which bound to English rule her loveliest Southern shore;
But there has been one victory since—as great in thinkers’ eyes:
It brought no riches in its train, no vast material prize,
Yet was a triumph for our laws, a glory to our land,