The Hundredth Year

"Drake, and Blake, and Nelson's mighty name."


    The stars were faint in heaven
        That saw the Old Year die,
    The dream-white mist of Devon
        Shut in the seaward sky:
    Before the dawn's unveiling
    I heard three voices hailing,
    I saw three ships come sailing
        With lanterns gleaming high.

    The first he cried defiance--
        A full-mouthed voice and bold--
    "On God be our reliance,
        Our hope the Spaniard's gold!
    With a still, stern ambuscado,
    With a roaring escalado,
    We'll sack their Eldorado
        And storm their dungeon hold!"

    Then slowly spake the second--
        A great sad voice and deep--
    "When all your gold is reckoned,
        There is but this to keep:

    To stay the foe from fooling,
    To learn the heathen schooling,
    To live and die sea-ruling,
        And home at last to sleep."

    But the third matched in beauty
        The dawn that flushed afar;
    "O sons of England, Duty
        Is England's morning star:
    Then Fame's eternal splendour
    Be theirs who well defend her,
    And theirs who fain would bend her
        The night of Trafalgar!"

Henry John Newbolt

Sir Henry John Newbolt was an English poet and author, famous for his ballads such as 'Vitaï Lampada'. He graduated from Oxford and was called to the bar, but he is better remembered for his literary contributions than his legal career. Newbolt served as a government advisor on military and naval literature during World War I. He was knighted in 1915 for his services to literature. Newbolt's work often reflected themes of patriotism and duty.

Henry John Newbolt

Messmates

Henry John Newbolt, Simple Poetry

The Sailing Of The Long-Ships

Henry John Newbolt, Simple Poetry

A Ballad of John Nicholson

Henry John Newbolt, Simple Poetry

Epistle

Henry John Newbolt, Simple Poetry

English

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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...

Henry John Newbolt

Waggon Hill

Drake in the North Sea grimly prowling,
    Treading his dear Revenge's deck,
Watched, with the sea-dogs round him growling,
    Galleons drifting wreck by wreck.
    "Fetter and Faith for England's neck,
    Faggot and Father, Saint and chain,---
Yonder the Devil and all go howling,
    Devon, O Devon, in wind and rain!

Drake at the last off Nombre lying,
    Knowing the night that toward him crept,
Gave to the sea-dogs round him crying,
    This for a sign before he slept:---
    "Pride of the West! What Devon hath kept
    Devon shall keep on tide or main;
Call to the storm and drive them flying,
    Devon, O Devon, in wind and rain!"

Valour of England gaunt and whitening,
    Far in a South land brought to bay,
Locked in a deat...

Henry John Newbolt

The Phantom Fleet

(1904)


The sunset lingered in the pale green West:
    In rosy wastes the low soft evening star
Woke; while the last white sea-mew sought for rest;
    And tawny sails came stealing o'er the bar.

But, in the hillside cottage, through the panes
    The light streamed like a thin far trumpet-call,
And quickened, as with quivering battle-stains,
    The printed ships that decked the parlour wall.

From oaken frames old admirals looked down:
    They saw the lonely slumberer at their feet:
They saw the paper, headed Talk from Town;
    Our rusting trident, and our phantom fleet:

And from a neighbouring tavern surged a song
    Of England laughing in the face of war,
With eyes unconquerably proud and strong,
    And lips triumpha...

Alfred Noyes

The Sailing Of The Long-Ships

(October, 1899)

They saw the cables loosened, they saw the gangways cleared,
They heard the women weeping, they heard the men that cheered;
Far off, far off, the tumult faded and died away,
And all alone the sea-wind came singing up the Bay.

"I came by Cape St. Vincent, I came by Trafalgar,
I swept from Torres Vedras to golden Vigo Bar,
I saw the beacons blazing that fired the world with light
When down their ancient highway your fathers passed to fight.

"O race of tireless fighters, flushed with a youth renewed,
Right well the wars of Freedom befit the Sea-kings' brood;
Yet as ye go forget not the fame of yonder shore,
The fame ye owe your fathers and the old time before.

"Long-suffering were the Sea-kings, they were not swift to kill,
But when ...

Henry John Newbolt

Battle Of The Baltic

Of Nelson and the North
Sing the glorious day's renown,
When to battle fierce came forth
All the might of Denmark's crown,
And her arms along the deep proudly shone;
By each gun the lighted brand
In a bold determined hand,
And the Prince of all the land
Led them on.

Like leviathans afloat
Lay their bulwarks on the brine,
While the sign of battle flew
On the lofty British line:
It was ten of April morn by the chime:
As they drifted on their path
There was silence deep as death,
And the boldest held his breath
For a time.

But the might of England flush'd
To anticipate the scene;
And her van the fleeter rush'd
O'er the deadly space between:
'Hearts of oak!' our captains cried, when each gun
From its adamantine lips

Thomas Campbell

Laudabunt Alii

(After Horace)

Let others praise, as fancy wills,
    Berlin beneath her trees,
Or Rome upon her seven hills,
    Or Venice by her seas;
Stamboul by double tides embraced,
Or green Damascus in the waste.

For me there's nought I would not leave
    For the good Devon land,
Whose orchards down the echoing cleeve
    Bedewed with spray-drift stand,
And hardly bear the red fruit up
That shall be next year's cider-cup.

You too, my friend, may wisely mark
    How clear skies follow rain,
And, lingering in your own green park
    Or drilled on Laffan's Plain,
Forget not with the festal bowl
To soothe at times your weary soul.

When Drake must bid to Plymouth Hoe
    Good-bye for many a day,
And some were sad and feared ...

Henry John Newbolt