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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 hath 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 Edgecumbe'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 yeoman round the market cross
Make clear an ample space;

For there behooves 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 flag-staff deep, Sir Knight:

Ho! scatter flowers, fair maids:

Hɔ! 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;

For swift to east and swift to west

The ghastly war-flame 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 miners 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.

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