The Captain

1797


                            Here all the day she swings from tide to tide,
                                Here all night long she tugs a rusted chain,
                            A masterless hulk that was a ship of pride,
                                Yet unashamed:    her memories remain.

                    It was Nelson in the 'Captain', Cape St. Vincent far alee,
                    With the 'Vanguard' leading s'uth'ard in the haze --
                    Little Jervis and the Spaniards and the fight that was to be,
                    Twenty-seven Spanish battleships, great bullies of the sea,
                    And the 'Captain' there to find her day of days.

                    Right into them the 'Vanguard' leads, but with a sudden tack
                    The Spaniards double swiftly on their trail;
                    Now Jervis overshoots his mark, like some too eager pack,
                    He will not overtake them, haste he e'er so greatly back,
                    But Nelson and the 'Captain' will not fail.

                    Like a tigress on her quarry leaps the 'Captain' from her place,
                    To lie across the fleeing squadron's way:
                    Heavy odds and heavy onslaught, gun to gun and face to face,
                    Win the ship a name of glory, win the men a death of grace,
                    For a little hold the Spanish fleet in play.

                    Ended now the "Captain"'s battle, stricken sore she falls aside
                    Holding still her foemen, beaten to the knee:
                    As the 'Vanguard' drifted past her, "Well done, 'Captain'," Jervis cried,
                    Rang the cheers of men that conquered, ran the blood of men that died,
                    And the ship had won her immortality.

                            Lo! here her progeny of steel and steam,
                                A funnelled monster at her mooring swings:
                            Still, in our hearts, we see her pennant stream,
                                And "Well done, 'Captain'," like a trumpet rings.

John McCrae

John Alexander McCrae was a Canadian poet, physician, author, artist, and soldier during World War I. He is best known for writing the famous war memorial poem 'In Flanders Fields.' Born on November 30, 1872, in Guelph, Ontario, McCrae died of pneumonia on January 28, 1918, in Boulogne-sur-Mer, France. His work has been a significant influence on war poetry and remembrance traditions.

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English

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The Captain

Here all the day she swings from tide to tide,
Here all night long she tugs a rusted chain,
A masterless hulk that was a ship of pride,
Yet unashamed:her memories remain.

It was Nelson in the `Captain', Cape St. Vincent far alee,
With the `Vanguard' leading s'uth'ard in the haze,
Little Jervis and the Spaniards and the fight that was to be,
Twenty-seven Spanish battleships, great bullies of the sea,
And the `Captain' there to find her day of days.

Right into them the `Vanguard' leads, but with a sudden tack
The Spaniards double swiftly on their trail;
Now Jervis overshoots his mark, like some too eager pack,
He will not overtake them, haste he e'er so greatly back,
But Nelson and the `Captain' will not fail.

Like a tigress on her quarry leaps the `Capt...

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The Quarter-Gunner's Yarn

We lay at St. Helen's, and easy she rode
With one anchor catted and fresh-water stowed;
When the barge came alongside like bullocks we roared,
For we knew what we carried with Nelson aboard.

Our Captain was Hardy, the pride of us all,
I'll ask for none better when danger shall call;
He was hardy by nature and Hardy by name,
And soon by his conduct to honour he came.

The third day the Lizard was under our lee,
Where the Ajax and Thunderer joined us at sea,
But what with foul weather and tacking about,
When we sighted the Fleet we were thirteen days out.

The Captains they all came aboard quick enough,
But the news that they brought was as heavy as duff;
So backward an enemy never was seen,
They were harder to come at than Cheeks the Ma...

Henry John Newbolt

The Captain

A LEGEND OF THE NAVY


He that only rules by terror
Doeth grievous wrong.
Deep as hell I count his error.
Let him hear my song.
Brave the Captain was; the seamen
Made a gallant crew,
Gallant sons of English freemen,
Sailors bold and true.
But they hated his oppression;
Stern he was and rash,
So for every light transgression
Doomd them to the lash.
Day by day more harsh and cruel
Seemd the Captains mood.
Secret wrath like smotherd fuel
Burnt in each mans blood.
Yet he hoped to purchase glory,
Hoped to make the name
Of his vessel great in story,
Wheresoeer he came.
So they past by capes and islands,
Many a harbor-mouth,
Sailing under palmy highlands
Far within the South.
On a day when they were going

Alfred Lord Tennyson

The Old Superb

The wind was rising easterly, the morning sky was blue,
    The Straits before us opened wide and free;
We looked towards the Admiral, where high the Peter flew,
    And all our hearts were dancing like the sea.
"The French are gone to Martinique with four and twenty sail!
    The Old Superb is old and foul and slow,
But the French are gone to Martinique, and Nelson's on the trail.
    And where he goes the Old Superb must go!"

        So Westward ho! for Trinidad, and Eastward ho! for Spain,
            And "Ship ahoy!" a hundred times a day;
        Round the world if need be, and round the world again,
            With a lame duck lagging all the way.

The Old Superb was barnacled and green as grass below,
    Her sticks were only fit for s...

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Admirals All

Effingham, Grenville, Raleigh, Drake,
    Here's to the bold and free!
Benbow, Collingwood, Byron, Blake,
    Hail to the Kings of the Sea!
Admirals all, for England's sake,
    Honour be yours and fame!
And honour, as long as waves shall break,
    To Nelson's peerless name!

        Admirals all, for England's sake,
            Honour be yours and fame!
        And honour, as long as waves shall break,
            To Nelson's peerless name!

Essex was fretting in Cadiz Bay
    With the galleons fair in sight;
Howard at last must give him his way,
    And the word was passed to fight.
Never was schoolboy gayer than he,
    Since holidays first began:
He tossed his bonnet to wind and sea,
    And under the guns he ran.

Drake...

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The Ballad Of The Calliope

By the far Samoan shore,
Where the league-long rollers pour
All the wash of the Pacific on the coral-guarded bay,
Riding lightly at their ease,
In the calm of tropic seas,
The three great nations' warships at their anchors proudly lay.

Riding lightly, head to wind,
With the coral reefs behind,
Three German and three Yankee ships were mirrored in the blue;
And on one ship unfurled
Was the flag that rules the world,
For on the old Calliope the flag of England flew.

When the gentle off-shore breeze,
That had scarcely stirred the trees,
Dropped down to utter stillness, and the glass began to fall,
Away across the main
Lowered the coming hurricane,
And far away to seaward hung the cloud-wrack like a pall.

If the word had passed around,

Andrew Barton Paterson