Britannia Radio

This poem, in shortened form, was written in 1871 at Cheltenham by an anonymous poet, although the initials D.W.N. are appended.

Strangely, many of the Prophecies have come true in the hundred years or more since the poem was written.

Certain verses (below) were printed in "This England" (I still have this 1974 Magazine) Magazine in the 1974 edition.

The verses in italics, although from the original poem were not printed in 1974’s This England and were kindly sent to me by another freedom fighter.

Anne

"The Fox's Prophecy"

Tom Hill was in the saddle, one bright November morn,

The echoing glades of Guiting Wood were ringing with his horn,

Soft fleecy clouds were sailing across the vault of blue,

A fairer hunting morning, no huntsman ever knew.

All nature seemed rejoicing, that glorious morn to see,

All seemed to breathe a fresher life-Beast, Insect, Bird, and tree

Then round he turned his horses head, and shook his bridle free,

When he was aware of an agéd fox that sat beneath a tree.

"Huntsman" he said--a sudden thrill, through all his listeners ran,

To hear a creature of the wood Speak like a Christian man.

"Print my words upon your heart, and stamp them on your brain,

That you to others may repeat my prophecy again.

“Strong life is yours in manhood’s prime, your cheek with heat is red,

Time has not laid his finger yet, in earnest on your head.

But ere your limbs are bent with age, and ere your locks are grey,

The sport that you have loved so well, shall long have passed away”

“Better in early youth and strength, the race for life to run,

Than poisoned like the noxious rat, or slain by felon gun,

For not upon these hills alone, the doom of sport shall fall,

O’er the broad face of England, creeps the shadow on the wall”.

The woodlands where my race has bred, unto the axe shall yield,

Hedgerows and copse shall cease to share, the ever widening field,

The manly sports of England shall perish one by one,

The manly blood of England in weaker veins shall run.

The sports of their forefathers, to baser tastes shall yield,

The vices of the town display, the pleasures of the field.

For swiftly o're the level shore, the waves of progress ride

The ancient land-marks one by one shall sink beneath the tide.

Time honoured creeds and ancient faith, the alter and the crown,

Lordship, hereditary right, before that tide go down.

Base churls shall mock the mighty names, writ on the role of time;

Religion shall be a jest, and loyalty a crime.

No word of prayer, no hymn of praise, sound in the village school,

The people’s education, utilitarians rule.

In England’s ancient pulpits, lay orators shall preach,

New creeds, and free religions, self-made apostles teach.

The homes where love and peace should dwell, fierce politics shall vex,

And unsexed women strive to prove, herself the coarser sex.

Mechanics in their work-shops, affairs of state decide,

Honour and truth- old fashioned words, the noisy mob deride.

The Statesmen that should rule the realm, course demagogues displace;

The glory of a thousand years shall end in foul disgrace,

Trade shall he held the only good, and gain the sole device;

The statesman's maxim shall be peace, and peace at any price.

Her army and her navy, Britain shall cast aside,

Soldiers and ships are costly things, defence an empty pride,

The German and the Muscovite shall rule the narrow seas,

Old England's flag shall cease to float in triumph on the breeze.

The footsteps of th’ invader, then England’s shore shall know,

While home-bred traitors give the hand, to England’s every foe.

Disarmed, before the foreigner, the knee shall humbly bend,

And yield the treasure that she lacked, the wisdom to defend.

But not for aye-yet once again, when purged by fire and sword

The land her freedom shall regain, to manlier thoughts restored.

Rejoicing seas shall welcome, their mistress once again,

Once more the banner of St George shall rule upon the main.

Taught wisdom by disaster, England shall learn to know,

That trade is not the only gain Heaven gives to man below.

The greed for gold abated, the golden calf cast down,

Old England's son again shall raise, the alter and the crown.

Again in hall and homestead shall joy and peace be seen,

And smiling children raise again, the maypole on the green."

Again--it seemed that agéd fox more prophecies would say,

When sudden came upon the wind, "Hark forward! gone away!"

The listener started from his trance,

He sat there all alone,

That well-known cry had burst the spell,

The agéd fox had gone.

Also anonymous in keeping with the original. Added in 1999

'T’was in the long and distant past, that prophecy foretold,

Of all the things that was to come, by that agéd fox of old.

To watch while evil worked its way, to modernise and reform,

"Destroy", "Destroy", the little Englanders, Europeans now be born.

But that agéd fox ran out of time 'ere his prophecy to complete,

For the listener would take heart to know, that a King will regain his seat.

The sleeping giant too will wake, give voice with one great roar,

Seek out the fork tongued treacherous ones, to weave their spells no more.

The flag will proudly fly aloft, and loud the anthem sing,

In England's green and pleasant land, freedom and independence bring.

That agéd fox, could he but know in his warnings he did his best,

His prophecies each one came true, now his ghost can be laid to rest.