The Duke of Wellington said that the battle of Waterloo was won on the
cricket fields of Eton. English sport at its best is admirable; it asks
outward triumph if possible, but far more it asks that one do his best
till the very end and treat his opponent with courtesy and fairness. The
spirit thus instilled at school has again and again been carried in
after life into the large affairs of the nation.
There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night--
Ten to make and the match to win--
A bumping pitch and a blinding light,
An hour to play and the last man in.
And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat
Or the selfish hope of a season's fame,
But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote;
"Play up! Play up! And play the game!"
The sand of the desert is sodden red--
Red with the wreck of a square that broke;
The Gatling's jammed and the colonel dead,
And the regiment's blind with dust and smoke.
The river of death has brimmed his banks,
And England's far and Honor a name,
But the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks,
"Play up! Play up! And play the game!"
This is the word that year by year,
While in her place the School is set,
Every one of her sons must hear,
And none that hears it dare forget.
This they all with a joyful mind
Bear through life like a torch in flame,
And falling, fling to the host behind--
"Play up! Play up! And play the game!"
_Henry Newbolt._