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.

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.

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!

CXIII

Henry Newbolt.

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' rüled 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.
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!

CXIV

Henry Newbolt.

A TOAST

DRAKE'S luck to all that sail with Drake
For promised lands of gold!
Brave lads, whatever storms may break,
We've weathered worse of old!

To-night the loving-cup we'll drain,

To-morrow for the Spanish Main!

CXV

Henry Newbolt.

THE FLAG OF ENGLAND

WINDS of the World, give answer! They are whimpering to and fro

And what should they know of England who only England know?

The poor little street-bred people that vapour and fume and brag,

They are lifting their heads in the stillness to yelp at the English Flag.

Must we borrow a clout from the Boer-to plaster anew with dirt?

An Irish liar's bandage, or an English coward's shirt?

We may not speak of England? her Flag's to sell

or share.

What is the Flag of England?

World, declare!

Winds of the

The North Wind blew :-' From Bergen my steelshod vanguards go;

I chase your lazy whalers home from the Disko

floe;

By the great North Lights above me I work the will of God,

And the liner splits on the ice-field or the Dogger fills with cod.

I barred my gates with iron, I shuttered my doors with flame,

Because to force my ramparts your nutshell navies

came;

I took the sun from their presence, I cut them down with my blast,

And they died, but the Flag of England blew free ere the spirit passed.

The lean white bear hath seen it in the long, long Arctic night,

The musk-ox knows the standard that flouts the Northern Light:

What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my bergs to dare,

Ye have but my drifts to conquer. Go forth, for it is there!'

The South Wind sighed :- From the Virgins my mid-sea course was ta'en

Over a thousand islands lost in an idle main, Where the sea-egg flames on the coral and the long-backed breakers croon

Their endless ocean legends to the lazy locked lagoon.

Strayed amid lonely islets, mazed amid outer keys, I waked the palms to laughter-I tossed the scud in the breeze

Never was isle so little, never was sea so lone, But over the scud and the palm-trees an English flag was flown.

I have wrenched it free from the halliard to hang for a wisp on the Horn;

I have chased it North, to the Lizard-ribboned and rolled and torn;

I have spread its fold o'er the dying, adrift in a hopeless sea;

I have hurled it swift on the slaver, and seen the slave set free.

My basking sunfish know it, and wheeling alba

Ye have but my seas to furrow. Go forth, for it

is there!'

The East Wind roared:- From the Kuriles, the Bitter Seas, I come,

And me men call the Home-Wind, for I bring the English home.

Look-look well to your shipping! By the breath of my mad typhoon

I swept your close-packed Praya and beached your best at Kowloon !

The reeling junks behind me and the racing seas before,

I raped your richest roadstead I plundered Singapore!

I set my hand on the Hoogli; as a hooded snake

she rose,

And I heaved your stoutest steamers to roost with the startled crows.

Never the lotos closes, never the wild-fowl wake, But a soul goes out on the East Wind that died for England's sake