PESOA. THE ARMADA. ATTEND, all ye who list to hear I tell of the thrice famous deeds 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, And the tall Pinta, till the noon To pry along the coast, And with loose rein and bloody spur 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 For there behooves him to set up The standard of Her Grace. And gaily dance the bells, 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, 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 The parting gleam of sunshine kissed 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, 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 |