Not once or twice in our fair island-story, Shall find the toppling crags of Duty scaled To which our God Himself is moon and sun. Such was he: his work is done. But while the races of mankind endure, Let his great example stand Colossal, seen of every land, And keep the soldier firm, the statesman pure: The path of duty be the way to glory: And let the land whose hearths he saved from shame For many and many an age proclaim At civic revel and pomp and game, And when the long-illumined cities flame, Their ever-loyal iron leader's fame, With honour, honour, honour, honour to him, Peace, his triumph will be sung By some yet unmoulded tongue Far on in summers that we shall not see: Peace, it is a day of pain For one about whose patriarchal knee Late the little children clung: Oh peace, it is a day of pain For one, upon whose hand and heart and brain Ours the pain, be his the gain! More than is of man's degree Whom we see not we revere; From talk of battles loud and vain, As befits a solemn fane: Uplifted high in heart and hope are we, For though the Giant Ages heave the hill Though world on world in myriad myriads roll What know we greater than the soul? On God and Godlike men we built our trust. Hush, the Dead March wails in the people's ears: The dark crowd moves, and there are sobs and tears: The black earth yawns: the mortal disappears; He is gone who seemed so great.- Being here, and we believe him Than any wreath that man can weave him. Lay your earthly fancies down, And in the vast cathedral leave him, Lord Tennyson. 155 THE ARMADA (A Fragment.) ATTEND, all ye who list to hear our noble England's praise; I tell of the thrice-famous deeds she wrought in ancient days, When that great fleet invincible against her bore in vain The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts of Spain. It was about the lovely close of a warm summer day, There came a gallant merchant-ship full sail to Plymouth Bay; Her crew had seen Castile's black fleet, beyond Aurigny's isle, At earliest twilight, on the waves lie heaving many a mile. At sunrise she escaped their van, by God's especial grace; And the tall Pinta till the noon had held her close in chase. Forthwith a guard at every gun was placed along the wall; The beacon blazed upon the roof of Edgcumbe's lofty hall; Many a light fishing bark put out to pry along the coast, And with loose rein and bloody spur rode inland many a post. With his white hair unbonneted, the stout old sheriff comes; Behind him march the halberdiers; before him sound the drums; His yeomen round the market cross make clear an ample space; For there behoves him to set up the standard of Her Grace. And haughtily the trumpets peal, and gaily dance the bells, As slow upon the labouring wind the royal blazon swells. Look how the Lion of the sea lifts up his ancient crown, And underneath his deadly paw treads the gay lilies down. So stalked he when he turned to flight, on that famed Picard field, Bohemia's plume, and Genoa's bow, and Cæsar's eagle shield. So glared he when at Agincourt in wrath he turned to bay, And crushed and torn beneath his claws the princely hunters lay. Ho, strike the flagstaff deep, Sir Knight! Ho, scatter flowers, fair maids! Ho, gunners, fire a loud salute! Ho, gallants, draw your blades! Thou sun, shine on her joyously, ye breezes, waft her wide, Our glorious SEMPER EADEM, the banner of our pride! The freshening breeze of eve unfurled that banner's massy fold; The parting gleam of sunshine kissed that haughty scroll of gold; Night sank upon the dusky beach, and on the purple sea, Such night in England ne'er had been, nor e'er again shall be. From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, from Lynn to Milford Bay, That time of slumber was as bright and busy as the day; R For swift to east and swift to west the ghastly warflame spread, High on St. Michael's Mount it shone; it shone on Beachy Head. Far on the deep the Spaniard saw, along each southern shire, Cape beyond cape, in endless range, those twinkling points of fire. The fisher left his skiff to rock on Tamar's glittering waves, The rugged miner poured to war from Mendip's sunless caves; O'er Longleat's towers, o'er Cranbourne's oaks, the fiery herald flew : He roused the shepherds of Stonehenge, the rangers of Beaulieu. Right sharp and quick the bells all night rang out from Bristol town, And ere the day three hundred horse had met on Clifton down. The sentinel on Whitehall gate looked forth into the night, And saw o'erhanging Richmond Hill the streak of blood-red light; Then bugle's note and cannon's roar the death-like silence broke, And with one start, and with one cry, the royal city woke. At once on all her stately gates arose the answering fires; At once the wild alarum clashed from all her reeling spires; From all the batteries of the Tower pealed loud the voice of fear; And all the thousand masts of Thames sent back a louder cheer; And from the farthest wards was heard the rush of hurrying feet, And the broad streams of pikes and flags rushed down each roaring street. |