"Cape beyond Cape, in endless range, those twinkling points of fire"[1]
_Reveille_ shot from sea to sea, from wave-washed shire to shire,
Inland, from hill to hill, it flashed wherever English hand
Helpful at need in English cause could grip an English brand.
To-day? Well, round our jutting cliffs, across our hollowing bays
Thicker the light-ship beacons flash, the lighthouse lanterns blaze.
From sweep to sweep, from steep to steep, our shores are starred with light,
Burning across the briny floods through the black mirk of night,
Forth-gleaming like the eyes of Hope, or like the fires of Home,
Upon the eager eyes of men far-straining o'er the foam.
Good! But how greatly less than good to fear, to think, to know
That inland England's less alert against a whelming foe
Than when bonfire and beacon flared mere flame of wood and pitch,
From Surrey hills to Skiddaw!
Science-dowered, serenely rich,
Safe in its snugly sheltered homes, our England lies at ease,
Whilst round her cliffs gale-scourged to wrath the tiger-throated seas
Thunder in ruthless ravening rage, with rending crash and shock,
Through the dull night and blinding drift on leagues of reef and rock.
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