Produced by Al Haines [Transcriber's note: Page numbers in this book are indicated by numbers enclosed in curly braces, e.g. {99}. They have been located where page breaks occurred in the original book, in accordance with Project Gutenberg's FAQ-V-99.] POEMS: NEW AND OLD BY HENRY NEWBOLT LONDON JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W. 1912 TO ADMIRAL SIR REGINALD CUSTANCE {vi} AUTHOR'S NOTE This volume forms a complete collection of all my published work in verse from 1897 to 1912. It includes the contents of four previous volumes: _Admirals All_ (1897), _The Island Race_ (1898), _The Sailing of the Long-Ships_ (1902), and _Songs of Memory and Hope_ (1909), together with a number of pieces added to the later editions of the first two of these, and ten poems which have not hitherto appeared in book form--namely, _Sailing at Dawn, The Song of the Sou' Wester, The Middle Watch, The Little Admiral, The Song of the Guns at Sea, Farewell, Mors Janua, Gold, The Faun_, and _Rilloby-Rill_. The volumes above mentioned were dedicated respectively to ANDREW LANG, to ROBERT BRIDGES, to SIR EDWARD GREY, and to LAURENCE BINYON; and I delight to repeat these names once more, in a volume which commemorates also the inspiration of a later friendship. H. N. {vii} CONTENTS PAGE SONGS OF THE FLEET: I. SAILING AT DAWN . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 II. THE SONG OF THE SOU' WESTER . . . . . . . 3 III. THE MIDDLE WATCH . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 IV. THE LITTLE ADMIRAL . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 V. THE SONG OF THE GUNS AT SEA . . . . . . . 9 VI. FAREWELL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 ODE FOR TRAFALGAR DAY, 1905 . . . . . . . . . . 12 THE HUNDREDTH YEAR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 DRAKE'S DRUM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16 THE FIGHTING TÉMÉRAIRE . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18 ADMIRALS ALL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20 SAN STEFANO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 HAWKE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26 THE BRIGHT "MEDUSA" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28 THE OLD "SUPERB" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30 THE QUARTER-GUNNER'S YARN . . . . . . . . . . . 32 NORTHUMBERLAND . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35 FOR A TRAFALGAR CENOTAPH . . . . . . . . . . . . 37 CRAVEN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38 MESSMATES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40 THE DEATH OF ADMIRAL BLAKE . . . . . . . . . . . 42 {viii} PAGE VAE VICTIS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45 MINORA SIDERA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48 LAUDABUNT ALII . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50 ADMIRAL DEATH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52 HOMEWARD BOUND . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54 GILLESPIE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55 SERINGAPATAM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 58 A BALLAD OF JOHN NICHOLSON . . . . . . . . . . . 61 THE GUIDES AT CABUL, 1879 . . . . . . . . . . . 65 THE GAY GORDONS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67 HE FELL AMONG THIEVES . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69 IONICUS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72 THE NON-COMBATANT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74 SACRAMENTUM SUPREMUM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75 CLIFTON CHAPEL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76 VITAÏ LAMPADA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78 THE VIGIL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 80 THE SAILING OF THE LONG-SHIPS . . . . . . . . . 82 WAGGON HILL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84 THE VOLUNTEER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86 THE ONLY SON . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87 THE GRENADIER'S GOOD-BYE . . . . . . . . . . . . 88 THE SCHOOLFELLOW . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89 ON SPION KOP . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90 THE SCHOOL AT WAR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91 BY THE HEARTH-STONE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93 PEACE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94 APRIL ON WAGGON HILL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95 COMMEMORATION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97 {ix} PAGE THE ECHO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99 THE BEST SCHOOL OF ALL . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101 ENGLAND . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103 VICTORIA REGINA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104 THE KING OF ENGLAND . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105 THE NILE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107 SRÁHMANDÁZI . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 110 OUTWARD BOUND . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113 HOPE THE HORNBLOWER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114 O PULCHRITUDO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 116 THE FINAL MYSTERY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 IL SANTO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121 IN JULY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 122 FROM GENERATION TO GENERATION . . . . . . . . . 123 WHEN I REMEMBER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124 MORS JANUA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125 RONDEL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 126 RONDEL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127 BALADE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128 THE LAST WORD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131 THE VIKING'S SONG . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132 THE SUFI IN THE CITY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134 TO EDWARD FITZGERALD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 135 YATTENDON . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136 DEVON . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137 AMONG THE TOMBS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138 GOLD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139 A SOWER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 140 THE MOSSROSE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 {x} PAGE AVE, SOROR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143 TO A RIVER IN THE SOUTH . . . . . . . . . . . . 144 ON THE DEATH OF A NOBLE LADY . . . . . . . . . . 145 MIDWAY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 146 AD MATREM DOLOROSAM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147 VRAIS AMANTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 148 THE SANGREAL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149 SIR HUGH THE PALMER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 150 THE PRESENTATION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153 THE INHERITANCE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154 AMORE ALTIERO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 156 THE PEDLAR'S SONG . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158 BENEDICK'S SONG . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 159 LOVE AND GRIEF . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 160 EGERIA'S SILENCE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161 AGAINST OBLIVION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 162 FOND COUNSEL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163 YOUTH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164 THE WANDERER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 165 THE ADVENTURERS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 166 TO CLARE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168 THE RETURN OF SUMMER: AN ECLOGUE . . . . . . . . 169 DREAM-MARKET . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 173 THE CICALAS: AN IDYLL . . . . . . . . . . . . . 180 THE FAUN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 186 FIDELE'S GRASSY TOMB . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 189 MOONSET . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 192 A SONG OF EXMOOR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 194 MASTER AND MAN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 196 {xi} PAGE GAVOTTE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 198 IMOGEN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 199 NEL MEZZO DEL CAMMÌN . . . . . . . . . . . . . 201 THE INVASION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 202 RILLOBY-RILL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 204 PEREUNT ET IMPUTANTUR . . . . . . . . . . . . 206 FELIX ANTONIUS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 208 IRELAND, IRELAND . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 209 HYMN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 210 THE BUILDING OF THE TEMPLE . . . . . . . . . . 212 EPISTLE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 216 AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM . . . . . . . . . . . . 220 LE BYRON DE NOS JOURS . . . . . . . . . . . . 225 NOTES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231 O strength divine of Roman days, O spirit of the age of faith, Go with our sons on all their ways, When we long since are dust and wraith. {1} POEMS: NEW AND OLD _Songs of the Fleet_ I _Sailing at Dawn_ One by one the pale stars die before the day now, One by one the great ships are stirring from their sleep, Cables all are rumbling, anchors all a-weigh now, Now the fleet's a fleet again, gliding towards the deep. _Now the fleet's a fleet again, bound upon the old ways, Splendour of the past comes shining in the spray; Admirals of old time, bring us on the bold ways! Souls of all the sea-dogs, lead the line to-day!_ Far away behind us town and tower are dwindling, Home becomes a fair dream faded long ago; Infinitely glorious the height of heaven is kindling, Infinitely desolate the shoreless sea below. _Now the fleet's a fleet again, bound upon the old ways, Splendour of the past comes shining in the spray; Admirals of old time, bring us on the bold ways! Souls of all the sea-dogs, lead the line to-day!_ {2} Once again with proud hearts we make the old surrender, Once again with high hearts serve the age to be, Not for us the warm life of Earth, secure and tender, Ours the eternal wandering and warfare of the sea. _Now the fleet's a fleet again, bound upon the old ways, Splendour of the past comes shining in the spray; Admirals of old time, bring us on the bold ways! Souls of all the sea-dogs, lead the line to-day!_ {3} II _The Song of the Sou' Wester_ The sun was lost in a leaden sky, And the shore lay under our lee; When a great Sou' Wester hurricane high Came rollicking up the sea. He played with the fleet as a boy with boats Till out for the Downs we ran, And he laugh'd with the roar of a thousand throats At the militant ways of man: _Oh! I am the enemy most of might, The other be who you please! Gunner and guns may all be right, Flags a-flying and armour tight, But I am the fellow you've first to fight-- The giant that swings the seas._ A dozen of middies were down below Chasing the X they love, While the table curtseyed long and slow And the lamps were giddy above. {4} The lesson was all of a ship and a shot, And some of it may have been true, But the word they heard and never forgot Was the word of the wind that blew: _Oh! I am the enemy most of might, The other be who you please! Gunner and guns may all be right, Flags a-flying and armour tight, But I am the fellow you've first to fight-- The giant that swings the seas._ The Middy with luck is a Captain soon, With luck he may hear one day His own big guns a-humming the tune "'Twas in Trafalgar's Bay." But wherever he goes, with friends or foes, And whatever may there befall, He'll hear for ever a voice he knows For ever defying them all: _Oh! I am the enemy most of might, The other be who you please! Gunner and guns may all be right, Flags a-flying and armour tight, But I am the fellow you've first to fight-- The giant that swings the seas._ {5} III _The Middle Watch_ In a blue dusk the ship astern Uplifts her slender spars, With golden lights that seem to burn Among the silver stars. Like fleets along a cloudy shore The constellations creep, Like planets on the ocean floor Our silent course we keep. _And over the endless plain, Out of the night forlorn Rises a faint refrain, A song of the day to be born-- Watch, oh watch till ye find again Life and the land of morn._ From a dim West to a dark East Our lines unwavering head, As if their motion long had ceased And Time itself were dead. {6} Vainly we watch the deep below, Vainly the void above, They died a thousand years ago-- Life and the land we love. _But over the endless plain, Out of the night forlorn Rises a faint refrain, A song of the day to be born-- Watch, oh watch till ye find again Life and the land of morn._ {7} IV _The Little Admiral_ Stand by to reckon up your battleships Ten, twenty, thirty, there they go. Brag about your cruisers like Leviathans-- A thousand men a-piece down below. But here's just one little Admiral We're all of us his brothers and his sons, And he's worth, O he's worth at the very least Double all your tons and all your guns. _Stand by, etc._ See them on the forebridge signalling-- A score of men a-hauling hand to hand, And the whole fleet flying like the wild geese Moved by some mysterious command. Where's the mighty will that shows the way to them, The mind that sees ahead so quick and clear? He's there, Sir, walking all alone there-- The little man whose voice you never hear. _Stand by, etc._ {8} There are queer things that only come to sailormen; They're true, but they're never understood; And I know one thing about the Admiral, That I can't tell rightly as I should. I've been with him when hope sank under us-- He hardly seemed a mortal like the rest, I could swear that he had stars upon his uniform, And one sleeve pinned across his breast. _Stand by, etc._ Some day we're bound to sight the enemy, He's coming, tho' he hasn't yet a name. Keel to keel and gun to gun he'll challenge us To meet him at the Great Armada game. None knows what may be the end of it, But we'll all give our bodies and our souls To see the little Admiral a-playing him A rubber of the old Long Bowls! _Stand by, etc._ {9} V _The Song of the Guns at Sea_ Oh hear! Oh hear! Across the sullen tide Across the echoing dome horizon-wide What pulse of fear Beats with tremendous boom! What call of instant doom, With thunderstroke of terror and of pride, With urgency that may not be denied, Reverberates upon the heart's own drum Come! . . . Come! . . . for thou must come! Come forth, O Soul! This is thy day of power. This is the day and this the glorious hour That was the goal Of thy self-conquering strife. The love of child and wife, The fields of Earth and the wide ways of Thought-- Did not thy purpose count them all as nought That in this moment thou thyself mayst give And in thy country's life for ever live? {10} Therefore rejoice That in thy passionate prime Youth's nobler hope disdained the spoils of Time And thine own choice Fore-earned for thee this day. Rejoice! rejoice to obey In the great hour of life that men call Death The beat that bids thee draw heroic breath, Deep-throbbing till thy mortal heart be dumb Come! . . . Come! . . . the time is come! {11} VI _Farewell_ Mother, with unbowed head Hear thou across the sea The farewell of the dead, The dead who died for thee. Greet them again with tender words and grave, For, saving thee, themselves they could not save. To keep the house unharmed Their fathers built so fair, Deeming endurance armed Better than brute despair, They found the secret of the word that saith, "Service is sweet, for all true life is death." So greet thou well thy dead Across the homeless sea, And be thou comforted Because they died for thee. Far off they served, but now their deed is done For evermore their life and thine are one. {12} _Ode for Trafalgar Day, 1905_ "Partial firing continued until 4.30, when a victory having been reported to the Right Honourable Lord Viscount Nelson, K.B., and Commander-in-Chief, he then died of his wound."--Log of the _Victory_, October 21, 1805. England! to-day let fire be in thine eyes And in thy heart the throb of leaping guns; Crown in thy streets the deed that never dies, And tell their fathers' fame to all thy sons! Behold! behold! on that unchanging sea Where day behind Trafalgar rises pale, How dread the storm to be Drifts up with ominous breath Cloud after towering cloud of billowy sail Full charged with thunder and the bolts of death. Yet when the noon is past, and thy delight, More delicate for these good hundred years, Has drunk the splendour and the sound of fight And the sweet sting of long-since vanished fears, Then, England, come thou down with sterner lips From the bright world of thy substantial power, Forget thy seas, thy ships, And that wide echoing dome To watch the soul of man in his dark hour Redeeming yet his dear lost land of home. {13} What place is this? What under-world of pain All shadow-barred with glare of swinging fires? What writhing phantoms of the newly slain? What cries? What thirst consuming all desires? This is the field of battle: not for life, Not for the deeper life that dwells in love, Not for the savour of strife Or the far call of fame, Not for all these the fight: all these above The soul of this man cherished Duty's name. His steadfast hope from self has turned away, For the Cause only must he still contend: "How goes the day with us? How goes the day?" He craves not victory, but to make an end. Therefore not yet thine hour, O Death: but when The weapons forged against his country's peace Lie broken round him--then Give him the kiss supreme; Then let the tumult of his warfare cease And the last dawn dispel his anguished dream. {14} _The Hundredth Year_ "Drake, and Blake, and Nelson's mighty name." The stars were faint in heaven That saw the Old Year die, The dream-white mist of Devon Shut in the seaward sky: Before the dawn's unveiling I heard three voices hailing, I saw three ships come sailing With lanterns gleaming high. The first he cried defiance-- A full-mouthed voice and bold-- "On God be our reliance, Our hope the Spaniard's gold! With a still, stern ambuscado, With a roaring escalado, We'll sack their Eldorado And storm their dungeon hold!" Then slowly spake the second-- A great sad voice and deep-- "When all your gold is reckoned, There is but this to keep: {15} To stay the foe from fooling, To learn the heathen schooling, To live and die sea-ruling, And home at last to sleep." But the third matched in beauty The dawn that flushed afar; "O sons of England, Duty Is England's morning star: Then Fame's eternal splendour Be theirs who well defend her, And theirs who fain would bend her The night of Trafalgar!" {16} _Drake's Drum_ Drake he's in his hammock an' a thousand mile away, (Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?), Slung atween the round shot in Nombre Dios Bay, An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe. Yarnder lumes the Island, yarnder lie the ships, Wi' sailor lads a dancin' heel-an'-toe, An' the shore-lights flashin', an' the night-tide dashin', He sees et arl so plainly as he saw et long ago. Drake he was a Devon man, an' ruled the Devon seas, (Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?), Rovin' tho' his death fell, he went wi' heart at ease, An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe. "Take my drum to England, hang et by the shore, Strike et when your powder's runnin' low; If the Dons sight Devon, I'll quit the port o' Heaven, An' drum them up the Channel as we drummed them long ago." Drake he's in his hammock till the great Armadas come, (Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?), Slung atween the round shot, listenin' for the drum, An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe. {17} Call him on the deep sea, call him up the Sound, Call him when ye sail to meet the foe; Where the old trade's plyin' an' the old flag flyin' They shall find him ware an' wakin', as they found him long ago! {18} The Fighting Téméraire It was eight bells ringing, For the morning watch was done, And the gunner's lads were singing As they polished every gun. It was eight bells ringing, And the gunner's lads were singing, For the ship she rode a-swinging As they polished every gun. _Oh! til see the linstock lighting, Téméraire! Téméraire! Oh! to hear the round shot biting, Téméraire! Téméraire! Oh! to see the linstock lighting, And to hear the round shot biting, For we're all in love with fighting On the Fighting Téméraire._ It was noontide ringing, And the battle just begun, When the ship her way was winging As they loaded every gun. {19} It was noontide ringing, When the ship her way was winging, And the gunner's lads were singing As they loaded every gun. There'll be many grim and gory, Téméraire! Téméraire! There'll be few to tell the story, Téméraire! Téméraire! There'll be many grim and gory, There'll be few to tell the story, But we'll all be one in glory With the fighting Téméraire. There's a far bell ringing At the setting of the sun, And a phantom voice is singing Of the great days done. There's a far bell ringing, And a phantom voice is singing Of renown for ever clinging To the great days done. Now the sunset breezes shiver, Téméraire! Téméraire! And she's fading down the river, Téméraire! Téméraire! Now the sunset breezes shiver, And she's fading down the river, But in England's song for ever She's the Fighting Téméraire. {20} _Admirals All_ Effingham, Grenville, Raleigh, Drake, Here's to the bold and free! Benbow, Collingwood, Byron, Blake, Hail to the Kings of the Sea! Admirals all, for England's sake, Honour be yours and fame! And honour, as long as waves shall break, To Nelson's peerless name! _Admirals all, for England's sake, Honour be yours and fame! And honour, as long as waves shall break, To Nelson's peerless name!_ Essex was fretting in Cadiz Bay With the galleons fair in sight; Howard at last must give him his way, And the word was passed to fight. Never was schoolboy gayer than he, Since holidays first began: He tossed his bonnet to wind and sea, And under the guns he ran. {21} Drake nor devil nor Spaniard feared, Their cities he put to the sack; He singed his Catholic Majesty's beard, And harried his ships to wrack. He was playing at Plymouth a rubber of bowls When the great Armada came; But he said, "They must wait their turn, good souls," And he stooped, and finished the game. Fifteen sail were the Dutchmen bold, Duncan he had but two; But he anchored them fast where the Texel shoaled And his colours aloft he flew. "I've taken the depth to a fathom," he cried, "And I'll sink with a right good will, For I know when we're all of us under the tide, My flag will be fluttering still." Splinters were flying above, below, When Nelson sailed the Sound: "Mark you, I wouldn't be elsewhere now," Said he, "for a thousand pound!" The Admiral's signal bade him fly, But he wickedly wagged his head, He clapped the glass to his sightless eye And "I'm damned if I see it," he said. Admirals all, they said their say (The echoes are ringing still), Admirals all, they went their way To the haven under the hill. {22} But they left us a kingdom none can take, The realm of the circling sea, To be ruled by the rightful sons of Blake And the Rodneys yet to be. _Admirals all, for England's sake, Honour be yours and fame! And honour, as long as waves shall break, To Nelson's peerless name!_ {23} San Stefano (A BALLAD OF THE BOLD MENELAUS) It was morning at St. Helen's, in the great and gallant days, And the sea beneath the sun glittered wide, When the frigate set her courses, all a-shimmer in the haze, And she hauled her cable home and took the tide. She'd a right fighting company, three hundred men and more, Nine and forty guns in tackle running free; And they cheered her from the shore for her colours at the fore, When the bold _Menelaus_ put to sea. _She'd a right fighting company, three hundred men and more Nine and forty guns in tackle running free; And they cheered her from the shore for her colours at the fire, When the bold _Menelaus_ put to sea._ She was clear of Monte Cristo, she was heading for the land, When she spied a pennant red and white and blue; They were foemen, and they knew it, and they'd half a league in hand, But she flung aloft her royals and she flew. {24} She was nearer, nearer, nearer, they were caught beyond a doubt, But they slipped her, into Orbetello Bay, And the lubbers gave a shout as they paid their cables out, With the guns grinning round them where they lay. Now Sir Peter was a captain of a famous fighting race, Son and grandson of an admiral was he; And he looked upon the batteries, he looked upon the chase, And he heard the shout that echoed out to sea. And he called across the decks, "Ay! the cheering might be late If they kept it till the _Menelaus_ runs; Bid the master and his mate heave the lead and lay her straight For the prize lying yonder by the guns." When the summer moon was setting, into Orbetello Bay Came the _Menelaus_ gliding like a ghost; And her boats were manned in silence, and in silence pulled away, And in silence every gunner took his post. With a volley from her broadside the citadel she woke, And they hammered back like heroes all the night; But before the morning broke she had vanished through the smoke With her prize upon her quarter grappled tight. {25} It was evening at St. Helen's, in the great and gallant time, And the sky behind the down was flushing far; And the flags were all a-flutter, and the bells were all a-chime, When the frigate cast her anchor off the bar. She'd a right fighting company, three hundred men and more, Nine and forty guns in tackle running free; And they cheered her from the shore for her colours at the fore, When the bold _Menelaus_ came from sea. _She'd a right fighting company, three hundred men and more, Nine and forty guns in tackle running free; And they cheered her from the shore for her colours at the fore, When the bold _Menelaus_ came from sea._ {26} Hawke In seventeen hundred and fifty nine, When Hawke came swooping from the West, The French King's Admiral with twenty of the line, Was sailing forth, to sack us, out of Brest. The ports of France were crowded, the quays of France a-hum With thirty thousand soldiers marching to the drum, For bragging time was over and fighting time was come When Hawke came swooping from the West. 'Twas long past noon of a wild November day When Hawke came swooping from the West; He heard the breakers thundering in Quiberon Bay But he flew the flag for battle, line abreast. Down upon the quicksands roaring out of sight Fiercely beat the storm-wind, darkly fell the night, But they took the foe for pilot and the cannon's glare for light When Hawke came swooping from the West. The Frenchmen turned like a covey down the wind When Hawke came swooping from the West; One he sank with all hands, one he caught and pinned, And the shallows and the storm took the rest. {27} The guns that should have conquered us they rusted on the shore, The men that would have mastered us they drummed and marched no more, For England was England, and a mighty brood she bore When Hawke came swooping from the West. {28} _The Bright Medusa_ (1807) She's the daughter of the breeze, She's the darling of the seas, And we call her, if you please, the bright _Medu--sa_; From beneath her bosom bare To the snakes among her hair She's a flash o' golden light, the bright _Medu--sa_. When the ensign dips above And the guns are all for love, She's as gentle as a dove, the bright _Medu--sa_; But when the shot's in rack And her forestay flies the Jack, He's a merry man would slight the bright _Medu--sa_. When she got the word to go Up to Monte Video, There she found the river low, the bright _Medu--sa_; So she tumbled out her guns And a hundred of her sons, And she taught the Dons to fight the bright _Medu--sa_. {29} When the foeman can be found With the pluck to cross her ground, First she walks him round and round, the bright _Medu--sa_; Then she rakes him fore and aft Till he's just a jolly raft, And she grabs him like a kite, the bright _Medu--sa_. She's the daughter of the breeze, She's the darling of the seas, And you'll call her, if you please, the bright _Medu--sa_; For till England's sun be set-- And it's not for setting yet-- She shall bear her name by right, the bright _Medu--sa_. {30} _The Old _Suberb__ The wind was rising easterly, the morning sky was blue, The Straits before us opened wide and free; We looked towards the Admiral, where high the Peter flew, And all our hearts were dancing like the sea. "The French are gone to Martinique with four-and-twenty sail! The Old _Suberb_ is old and foul and slow, But the French are gone to Martinique, and Nelson's on the trail, And where he goes the Old _Suberb_ must go!" _So Westward ho! for Trinidad and Eastward ho! for Spain, And "Ship ahoy!" a hundred times a day; Round the world if need be, and round the world again, With a lame duck lagging all the way!_ The Old _Suberb_ was barnacled and green as grass below, Her sticks were only fit for stirring grog; The pride of all her midshipmen was silent long ago, And long ago they ceased to heave the log. {31} Four year out from home she was, and ne'er a week in port, And nothing save the guns aboard her bright; But Captain Keats he knew the game, and swore to share the sport, For he never yet came in too late to fight. _So Westward ho! for Trinidad and Eastward ho! for Spain, And "Ship ahoy!" a hundred times a day; Round the world if need be, and round the world again, With a lame duck lagging all the way!_ "Now up, my lads!" the Captain cried, "for sure the case were hard If longest out were first to fall behind. Aloft, aloft with studding sails, and lash them on the yard, For night and day the Trades are driving blind!" So all day long and all day long behind the fleet we crept, And how we fretted none but Nelson guessed; But every night the Old _Superb_ she sailed when others slept, Till we ran the French to earth with all the rest! _Oh, 'twas Westward ho! for Trinidad and Eastward ho! for Spain, And "Ship ahoy!" a hundred times a day; Round the world if need be, and round the world again, With a lame duck lagging all the way!_ {32} _The Quarter-Gunner's Yarn_ We lay at St. Helen's, and easy she rode With one anchor catted and fresh-water stowed; When the barge came alongside like bullocks we roared, For we knew what we carried with Nelson aboard. Our Captain was Hardy, the pride of us all, I'll ask for none better when danger shall call; He was hardy by nature and Hardy by name, And soon by his conduct to honour he came. The third day the Lizard was under our lee, Where the _Ajax_ and _Thunderer_ joined us at sea, But what with foul weather and tacking about, When we sighted the Fleet we were thirteen days out. The Captains they all came aboard quick enough, But the news that they brought was as heavy as duff; So backward an enemy never was seen, They were harder to come at than Cheeks the Marine. The lubbers had hare's lugs where seamen have ears, So we stowed all saluting and smothered our cheers, And to humour their stomachs and tempt them to dine, In the offing we showed them but six of the line. {33} One morning the topmen reported below The old _Agamemnon_ escaped from the foe. Says Nelson: "My lads, there'll be honour for some, For we're sure of a battle now Berry has come." "Up hammocks!" at last cried the bo'sun at dawn; The guns were cast loose and the tompions drawn; The gunner was bustling the shot racks to fill, And "All hands to quarters!" was piped with a will. We now saw the enemy bearing ahead, And to East of them Cape Trafalgar it was said, 'Tis a name we remember from father to son, That the days of old England may never be done. The _Victory_ led, to her flag it was due, Tho' the _Téméraires_ thought themselves Admirals too; But Lord Nelson he hailed them with masterful grace: "Cap'n Harvey, I'll thank you to keep in your place." To begin with we closed the _Bucentaure_ alone, An eighty-gun ship and their Admiral's own; We raked her but once, and the rest of the day Like a hospital hulk on the water she lay. To our battering next the _Redoutable_ struck, But her sharpshooters gave us the worst of the luck: Lord Nelson was wounded, most cruel to tell. "They've done for me, Hardy!" he cried as he fell. {34} To the cockpit in silence they carried him past, And sad were the looks that were after him cast; His face with a kerchief he tried to conceal, But we knew him too well from the truck to the keel. When the Captain reported a victory won, "Thank God!" he kept saying, "my duty I've done." At last came the moment to kiss him good-bye, And the Captain for once had the salt in his eye. "Now anchor, dear Hardy," the Admiral cried; But before we could make it he fainted and died. All night in the trough of the sea we were tossed, And for want of ground-tackle good prizes were lost. Then we hauled down the Hag, at the fore it was red, And blue at the mizzen was hoisted instead By Nelson's famed Captain, the pride of each tar, Who fought in the _Victory_ off Cape Trafalgar. {35} Northumberland "The Old and Bold." When England sets her banner forth And bids her armour shine, She'll not forget the famous North, The lads of moor and Tyne; And when the loving-cup's in hand, And Honour leads the cry, They know not old Northumberland Who'll pass her memory by. When Nelson sailed for Trafalgar With all his country's best, He held them dear as brothers are, But one beyond the rest. For when the fleet with heroes manned To clear the decks began, The boast of old Northumberland He sent to lead the van. Himself by _Victory's_ bulwarks stood And cheered to see the sight; "That noble fellow Collingwood, How bold he goes to fight!" {36} Love, that the league of Ocean spanned; Heard him as face to face; "What would he give, Northumberland; To share our pride of place?" The flag that goes the world around And flaps on every breeze Has never gladdened fairer ground Or kinder hearts than these. So when the loving-cup's in hand And Honour leads the cry, They know not old Northumberland Who'll pass her memory by. {37} _For a Trafalgar Cenotaph_ Lover of England, stand awhile and gaze With thankful heart, and lips refrained from praise; They rest beyond the speech of human pride Who served with Nelson and with Nelson died. {38} Craven (MOBILE BAY, 1864) Over the turret, shut in his iron-clad tower, Craven was conning his ship through smoke and flame; Gun to gun he had battered the fort for an hour, Now was the time for a charge to end the game. There lay the narrowing channel, smooth and grim, A hundred deaths beneath it, and never a sign; There lay the enemy's ships, and sink or swim The flag was flying, and he was head of the line. The fleet behind was jamming; the monitor hung Beating the stream; the roar for a moment hushed, Craven spoke to the pilot; slow she swung; Again he spoke, and right for the foe she rushed. Into the narrowing channel, between the shore And the sunk torpedoes lying in treacherous rank; She turned but a yard too short, a muffled roar, A mountainous wave, and she rolled, righted, and sank. {39} Over the manhole, up in the iron-clad tower, Pilot and Captain met as they turned to fly: The hundredth part of a moment seemed an hour, For one could pass to be saved, and one must die. They stood like men in a dream: Craven spoke, Spoke as he lived and fought, with a Captain's pride, "After you, Pilot:" the pilot woke, Down the ladder he went, and Craven died. _All men praise the deed and the manner, but we-- We set it apart from the pride that stoops to the proud, The strength that is supple to serve the strong and free, The grace of the empty hands and promises loud:_ _Sidney thirsting a humbler need to slake, Nelson waiting his turn for the surgeon's hand, Lucas crushed with chains for a comrade's sake, Outram coveting right before command,_ _These were paladins, these were Craven's peers, These with him shall be crowned in story and song, Crowned with the glitter of steel and the glimmer of tears, Princes of courtesy, merciful, proud and strong._ {40} _Messmates_ He gave us all a good-bye cheerily At the first dawn of day; We dropped him down the side full drearily When the light died away. It's a dead dark watch that he's a-keeping there, And a long, long night that lags a-creeping there, Where the Trades and the tides roll over him And the great ships go by. He's there alone with green seas rocking him For a thousand miles round; He's there alone with dumb things mocking him, And we're homeward bound. It's a long, lone watch that he's a-keeping there, And a dead cold night that lags a-creeping there, While the months and the years roll over him And the great ships go by. I wonder if the tramps come near enough As they thrash to and fro, And the battle-ships' bells ring clear enough To be heard down below; {41} If through all the lone watch that he's a-keeping there, And the long, cold night that lags a-creeping there, The voices of the sailor-men shall comfort him When the great ships go by. {42} _The Death of Admiral Blake_ (AUGUST 7TH, 1657) Laden with spoil of the South, fulfilled with the glory of achievement, And freshly crowned with never-dying fame, Sweeping by shores where the names are the names of the victories of England, Across the Bay the squadron homeward came. Proudly they came, but their pride was the pomp of a funeral at midnight, When dreader yet the lonely morrow looms; Few are the words that are spoken, and faces are gaunt beneath the torchlight That does but darken more the nodding plumes. Low on the field of his fame, past hope lay the Admiral triumphant, And fain to rest him after all his pain; Yet for the love that he bore to his own land, ever unforgotten, He prayed to see the western hills again. {43} Fainter than stars in a sky long gray with the coming of the daybreak, Or sounds of night that fade when night is done, So in the death-dawn faded the splendour and loud renown of warfare, And life of all its longings kept but one. "Oh! to be there for an hour when the shade draws in beside the hedgerows, And falling apples wake the drowsy noon: Oh! for the hour when the elms grow sombre and human in the twilight, And gardens dream beneath the rising moon. "Only to look once more on the land of the memories of childhood, Forgetting weary winds and barren foam: Only to bid farewell to the combe and the orchard and the moorland, And sleep at last among the fields of home!" So he was silently praying, till now, when his strength was ebbing faster, The Lizard lay before them faintly blue; Now on the gleaming horizon the white cliffs laughed along the coast-line, And now the forelands took the shapes they knew. {44} There lay the Sound and the Island with green leaves down beside the water, The town,
{'title': 'Poems: New and Old by Sir Henry John Newbolt', 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}