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Show The Song That Never Grows Old. j The determination of Great Britain to pay little further attention to her land defenses, but to trust that defense to her navy, brings to mind the old poem and song by Dr. Arne: "When Britain on her sea-girt shore Her ancient Druids first addressed, What aid, she cried, shall I implore? What best defense, by numbers pressed? The hostile nations round thee rise? The mystic oracles replied And view thine self with envious eyes; Their threats defy, their rage deride, Nor fear invasion from these adverse Gauls; J Britain's best bulwarks are her wooden walls." The last lino was the refrain of every stanza. I The years have gone by. The wooden wallsTiavo disappeared, but in their stead are walls of steel, I and the old song needs no amendment, save to I make the last line read: "Britain's best bulwarks are her walls of steel." Immense changes have come. Science and invention have changed all the enginery of war; the wooden walls have disappeared; so have I i masts and spars and sails; the impact of one shell would set Nelson's old flagship Victory aflame; one battleship and three torpedo boats would now sink all the ships that fought at Trafalgar in an hour; but Britain's defense is still her navy. No more great fortresses. She4 will probably keep those of Gibraltar and Malta in repair, but it will only be to satisfy her haughty pride and to maintain her prestige. Her merchant ships have brought her wealth to her; her warships have been the floating forts that have been the defense of her island kingdom; and looking over all that the nations na-tions have done, she has determined in future as in the past that: "Britain's best bulwarks are her walls of steel." |