[king Like Harold and his brethern, and his Every man about his Fell where he stood. They loved him : and, pray God My Normans may but move as true with me To the door of death. Of one selfstock at first, Make them again one people-Norman, English; And English, Norman ;-we should have a hand To grasp the world with, and a foot to Flat. Praise the Saints. It is over. I am King of Engiand, so they thwart And I will rule according to their laws. (To ALDWYTH.) And save for that chance arrow which Madam, we will entreat thee with all AT Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay, And a pinnace, like a flutter'd bird, came flying from far away II. Then spake Sir Richard Grenville: "I know you are no coward; You fly them for a moment to fight with them again. But I've ninety men or more that are lying sick ashore I should count myself the coward if I left them, my Lord Howard. To these Inquisition dogs and the devildoms of Spain." III. So Lord Howard past away with five ships of war that day, But Sir Richard bore in hand all his sick men from the land Men of Bideford in Devon, And we laid them on the ballast down below; For we brought them all aboard, And they blest him in their pain, that they were not left to Spain, IV. He had only a hundred seamen to work the ship and to fight, Good Sir Richard, let us know, For to fight is but to die! There'll be little of us left by the time the sun be set." And Sir Richard said again: "We be all good Englishmen. V. Sir Richard spoke, and he laugh'd, and we roared a hurrah, and so VI. Thousands of their soldiers look'd down from their decks and laugh'd, By their mountain-like "San Philip " that, of fifteen hundred tons, VII. And while now the great "San Philip " hung above us like a cloud Whence the thunderbolt will fall Long and loud, Four galleons drew away From the Spanish fleet that day, And two upon the larboard and two upon the starboard lay VIII. But anon the great "San Philip, she bethought herself and went, And the rest they came aboard us, and they fought us hand to hand, IX. And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea, For he said, "Fight on! fight on!" Tho' his vessel was all but a wreck; X. And it chanced that, when half of the summer night was gone, But a bullet struck him that was dressing it suddenly dead, XI. And the night went down, and the sun smiled out far over the summer sea, And the Spanish fleet with broken sides lay round us all in a ring; But they dared not touch us again, for they fear'd that we still could sting, So they watch'd what the end would be. And we had not fought them in vain, But in perilous plight were we, Seeing forty of our poor hundred were slain, And half of the rest of us maim'd for life In the crash of the cannonades and the desperate strife; And the sick men down in the hold were most of them stark and cold, And the pikes were all broken or bent, and the powder was all of it spent ; And the masts and the rigging were lying over the side; But Sir Richard cried in his English pride, "We have fought such a fight for a day and a night As may never be fought again! We have won great glory, my men! And a day less or more At sea or shore, We die-does it matter when? Sink me the ship, Master Gunner-sink her, split her in twain ! XII. And the gunner said, “Ay, ay," but the seamen made reply: "We have children, we have wives, And the Lord hath spared our lives. We will make the Spaniard promise, if we yield, to let us go; XIII. And the stately Spanish men to their flagship bore him then, "I have fought for Queen and Faith like a valiant man and true; XIV. And they stared at the dead that had been so valiant and true, And or ever that evening ended a great gale blew, And a wave like the wave that is raised by an earthquake grew, Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts and their flags, And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot-shatter'd navy of Spain, |