- This Idyll addresses the queen herself, and goes a little something like this:
- O loyal queen to her land, remember the day when you and the prince passed through the joyful London crowd after he recovered from a serious illness.
- London greeted you then with a great big hullabaloo.
- And you can't forget the silent cry of all the people over whom the British Empire rules.
- From the “true North” came a shameful sentiment, telling the British to go home and leave them alone.
- Can this really be the voice and meaning of the mightiest people under heaven (the Brits)? Or rather is it the voice of a feeble third-rate isle about to sink into the ocean?
- The true voice of Britain rang out when London greeted you and your prince.
- Those loyal to their crown love its empire for broadening England’s territory.
- Accept this poem not for itself, but for the love of your prince, over whose grave I have consecrated it.
- Accept it for your departed prince rather than for the departed king who’s its subject.
- Take this poet’s blessing, and his trust that Heaven will blow back that brewing storm.
- Those who fear the signs of trouble to come have listened too closely to rumblings motivated by laziness, cowardice, and other anti-nationalist sentiments. Boo on them.
- The goal of this great world is not within our sight.
- Yet if the common sense that has saved Britain many times does not desert her now, these fears are nothing more than “morning shadows." They exaggerate the true size of the thing that casts them.