The nation's life and honour bore, And new-born freedom which at length, Awoke the warlike flame, Which dwells in every English heart, Manned their swift ships and merrily Were with us as we strove ; That all we prized were watching there, At last, in Calais Haven The Spaniards' anchors fell, And two days we lay and watched them Inactive on the swell; For force a fight we could not, * Duke of Medina Sidonia. S That we might drive them from the bay, With morning's earliest light. As it drew on towards the midnight, We heard the Autumn gale, Which soon would try the utmost strength Of Spanish mast and sail. Now through the stealthy darkness, The night wind as it sighed As the eight ships went staggering down, A gun was fired, and by the light And driven on by fear, We weighed with earliest daybreak, And pressed upon their track, The duke might struggle back; On through the unknown North Sea's gates, Nor memory of man. We kept them well to lee-ward, And Seymour on the right Our ringing cheers as swift and well The deadly hail of battle fell; The hoarse cries of the enemy, Their broken ships went down, As war had never known. As the huge bison, when at length And the fleet hounds athirst for blood, Hang on his flank through brake and flood, Turns in mad fury to oppose The onset of his eager foes, So turned that giant armament, With tempest and with battle rent, By one last effort to regain The waning odds of desperate strife, And cast the shattered strength of Spain No more for victory now, but life. In vain in vain! the battle's lost, Freedom's triumphant o'er her foe, And see, upon the Flemish coast In headlong rout they're driven now; The wind sweeps round, they slowly clear The treacherous shoals, the riven sail They spread to catch the blast, in fear More of the battle than the gale. Northward toiled the straining ships Through the deep valleys of the sea, While our fleet upon their weather-beam Pursued unweariedly. Stronger blows the tempest, And higher rolls the wave, And filled with fear they wait not now Their shipwrecked mates to save; And we who erst were direst foes, Rescued their sailors as we passed, Who dropped astern as their comrades fled Northward 'fore the driving blast. Thus toiled the remnant of that host Round Scotland's stern and rugged coast, In the long reach to Spain. And few of those whose hearts beat high When they embarked in warlike joy, While deeper gladness dimmed their eye, Ever saw home again. Spain's tyrant power shall fade and fall, This England's power shall know, Her name and valour glow. In the great world's wide continents New nations from her sons shall rise From the east empurpled by the sun, THE WINTER NIGHT'S DREAM. Go, little story, written all for love, Quaint memory, and comfortable mirth ; War has been sung and praised in every age, From grand old Homer to the last "Gazette ; "Arms and the man upon the Roman's page Bear off the palm from husbandry; the debt |