So they watched what the end would be. Seeing forty of our poor hundred were slain, And half of the rest of us maimed 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 ashore, We die-does it matter when? Sink me the ship, Master Gunner-sink her, split her in twain! Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands of Spain!" 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; We shall live to fight again and to strike another blow." And the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to the foe. And the stately Spanish men to their flagship bore him then, Where they laid him by the mast, old Sir Richard caught at last, And they praised him to his face with their courtly foreign grace; But he rose upon their decks, and he cried: "I have fought for Queen and Faith like a valiant man and true; I have only done my duty as a man is bound to do. With a joyful spirit I Sir Richard Grenville die!" And he fell upon their decks, and he died. And they stared at the dead that had been so valiant and true, And had holden the power and glory of Spain so cheap That he dared her with one little ship and his English few; Was he devil or man? He was devil for aught they knew, But they sank his body with honor down into the deep, And they manned the Revenge with a swarthier alien crew, And away she sailed with her loss and longed for her own; When a wind from the lands they had ruined awoke from sleep, And the water began to heave and the weather to moan, 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-shattered navy of Spain, And the little Revenge herself went down by the island crags To be lost evermore in the main. Alfred Tennyson [1809-1892] THE SONG OF THE SPANISH MAIN OUT in the south, when the day is done, Where golden-sanded rivers run, And the great ships stagger, one by one, Up from the windy sea. Out in the south, where a twilight shroud Hangs o'er the ocean's rim, Sail on sail, like a floating cloud, Galleon, brigantine, cannon-browed, Rich from the Indies, homeward crowd, Singing a Spanish hymn. Out in the south, when the sun has set The cannon bellow their steady threat, The ships grind, all in a crimson sweat, And hoarse throats call, "Have ye stricken yet?" Out in the south, in the dead of night, 'Tis the Englishmen in their pride and might Out in the south, when the dawn's pale light And the mists of night, like clouds of fight, Drift in glory from height to height Where the white-tailed eagles soar; There comes a song through the salt and spray, "All day long down Florez way Then hush, forevermore. John Bennett [1865 HENRY HUDSON'S QUEST [1609] OUT from the harbor of Amsterdam The Half Moon turned her prow to sea; The coast of Norway dropped behind, Yet Northward still kept she Through the drifting fog and the driving snow, Where never before man dared to go: "O Pilot, shall we find the strait that leads to the Eastern Sea?" "A waste of ice before us lies-we must turn back," said he. Westward they steered their tiny bark, League after league they hugged the coast, "O Pilot, see you yet the strait that leads to the Eastern Sea?" "I see but the rocks and the barren shore; no strait is there," quoth he. They sailed to the North-they sailed to the South And at last they rounded an arm of sand Which held the sea from a harbor's mouth The loveliest in the land; They kept their course across the bay, And the shore before them fell away: "O Pilot, see you not the strait that leads to the Eastern sea?" "Hold the rudder true! Praise Christ Jesu! the strait is here,” said he. Onward they glide with wind and tide, And meadows white with mist But alas! the hope and the brave, brave dream! For rock and shallow bar the stream: "O Pilot, can this be the strait that leads to the Eastern Sea?" "Nay, Captain, nay; 'tis not this way; turn back we must," said he. Full sad was Hudson's heart as he turned The Half Moon's prow to the South once more; He saw no beauty in crag or hill, No beauty in curving shore; For they shut him away from that fabled main He sought his whole life long,—in vain: "O Pilot, say, can there be a strait that leads to the Eastern Sea?" "God's crypt is sealed! 'Twill stand revealed in His own good time," quoth he. Burton Egbert Stevenson [1872 TO THE VIRGINIAN VOYAGE [1611] You brave heroic minds, Worthy your country's name, That honor still pursue; Go and subdue! Whilst loitering hinds Lurk here at home, with shame. Britons, you stay too long: As the winds that blow you. Your course securely steer, West and by south forth keep! Rocks, lee-shores, nor shoals, You need not fear, And cheerfully at sea, To get the pearl and gold, And ours to hold Virginia, Earth's only paradise; Where nature hath in store Fowl, venison, and fish, |