Macon beacon., 1917-07-13
HANDS ALL AROUND
A PROPHETIC POEM

When Briton Guard Your Own. and Hand
All Round were written. my father. says Hallan
Tennyson. the great poets son, along with many
others. regarded France under Napoleon rs a Sc
rous menace to the peace of Europe. Althongf
a passionate patriot and true lover Of England
he was not blind to her faults and in later years
after the Franco-German War. he was filled will
admiration at the dgnifed way in which France
was gradually gathering herself together. He re
joiced whenever England and France were IL
agreement and worked harmoniousy together fol
| the good of the world"
1t is an interesting coincidence that this poem
of Tennysons, as near as can be learned. wal
written about the first part of 1852. or inst about
the time Henry Winter Davis wrote his book
'Ormuzd and Ahriman." and from which w
have quoted so freely in the foregoing Tenny
son. in the two last verses and Davis. though
probably unknown to each other. were voicing th'
same sentiment -ED. MANUFACTURERS RECORD.
First drink health, this solemn night,
A health to England, every guest;
That mans the best cosmopolite
Who loves his native country best.
May Freedom s oak forever live
With stronger life from day to day;
That mans the true conservative
VINO lops the moulder'd branch away,
Hands all round!
God the tyrant's hope confound!
To this great cause of Freedom drink,
my friends,
And the great name Of England round
and round.
A health to Europe's honest men!
Heaven guard them from her tyrant g
jails!
From wronged Poerio's noisome den,
From iron'd limbs and tortued nails
We curse the crimes of Southern kings,
The Russian whips and Austrian rods.
We, likewise. have our evil things;
Too much we make our Ledgers Gods.
Yet hands all round!
God the tyrant's cause confound!
To Europe's better health we drink, my
friends,
And the great name of England round
and round.
What health to France, If France be she,
Whom martial prowess only charms?
Yet tell her-Better to be free
Than vanquish all the world in arms,
Her frantic city's flashing heats
But fire to blast the hopes Of men.
Why change the titles of your streets?
You fools, you'll want them all again.
Yet hands all round!
God the tyrant's cause confound!
To France, the wiser France, we drink,
my friends,
And the great name of England round
and round.
Gigantic daughter of the West,
We drink to thee across the food;
We know the most, we love the best,
For art thou not of British blood?
Should wars mad blast again be blown,
Permit not thou the tyrant powers
To fight thy mother here alone,
But let thy broadsides roar with ours.
Hands all round!
God the tyrant's cause confound!
To our great kinsmen Of the West, my
friends.
And the great name of England round
and round.
Oh, rise our strong Atlantic sons,
When war against our freedom
springs!
Oh, speak to Europe thro' your guns
They can be understood by kings!
You must not mix our Queen With
those
That wish to keep their people fools;
Our freedoms foemen are her foes,
She comprehends the race she rules.
Hands all round!
God the tyrant's cause confound!
To our dear kinsmen of the West. nv
friends,
And the great name of England round
and round.