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 blind with dust and smoke.
The river of death has brimmed his banks,
And England's far, and Honour a name,
But the voice of 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!"
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It was Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington who famously said "The Battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton". It was believed that the sporting traditions of an English public school built character and determination in its youth and those atttibures were carried forward into adult life, be it in commerce, battle or just "living right" Newnolt has captured the essence of that here.
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It's a long journey from a school boys cricket fields to the 'sodden red sand of the African desert'. Newbolt caused quite a stir at the time with this particular poem, seen by some as a comparison of war and cricket but in fact it's the story of the comparison between boy and man.
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