For Knowledge is the swallow on the lake That sees and stirs the surface-shadow there But never yet hath dipt into the abysm - Alfred Tennyson

Sharers of our glorious past, Brothers, must we part at last? Shall we not through good and ill Cleave to one another still? Britain's myriad voices call, 'Sons, be welded each and all, Into one imperial whole, One with Britain, heart and soul! One life, one flag, one fleet, one Throne!' Britons, hold your own!

Know ye not then the Riddling of the Bards?
Confusion, and illusion, and relation,
Elusion, and occasion, and evasion?

The bodies and the bones of those That strove in other days to pass, Are wither'd in the thorny close, Or scatter'd blanching on the grass. He gazes on the silent dead: "They perish'd in their daring deeds." This proverb flashes thro' his head, "The many fail: the one succeeds."