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 death-grip all day tightening,
    Waited the end in twilight gray.
    Battle and storm and the sea-dog's way!
    Drake from his long rest turned again,
Victory lit thy steel with lightning,
    Devon, o Devon, in wind and rain!

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

Victoria Regina

Henry John Newbolt, Simple Poetry

The Inheritance

Henry John Newbolt, Simple Poetry

In July

Henry John Newbolt, Simple Poetry

Youth

Henry John Newbolt, Simple Poetry

English

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Drake's Drum

Drake he's in his hammock an' a thousand miles away,
    (Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?)
Slung atween the round shot in Nombre Dios Bay,
    An' dreamin' arl the time O' Plymouth Hoe.
Yarnder lumes the Island, yarnder lie the ships,
    Wi' sailor lads a-dancing' heel-an'-toe,
An' the shore-lights flashin', an' the night-tide dashin',
    He sees et arl so plainly as he saw et long ago.

Drake he was a Devon man, an' rüled the Devon seas,
    (Capten, art tha' sleepin' there below?)
Roving' tho' his death fell, he went wi' heart at ease,
    An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe.
"Take my drum to England, hang et by the shore,
    Strike et when your powder's runnin' low;
If the Dons sight Devon, I'll quit the port o' Heaven,
    An' drum them up t...

Henry John Newbolt

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 t...

Henry John Newbolt

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

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

Devon

    Deep-wooded combes, clear-mounded hills of morn,
        Red sunset tides against a red sea-wall,
        High lonely barrows where the curlews call,
    Far moors that echo to the ringing horn,--
    Devon! thou spirit of all these beauties born,
        All these are thine, but thou art more than all:
        Speech can but tell thy name, praise can but fall
    Beneath the cold white sea-mist of thy scorn.

    Yet, yet, O noble land, forbid us not
        Even now to join our faint memorial chime
    To the fierce chant wherewith their hearts were hot
        Who took the tide in thy Imperial prime;
    Whose glory's thine till Glory sleeps forgot
        With her ancestral phantoms, Pride and Time.

Henry John Newbolt

Song Of The Red War-Boat

Shove off from the wharf-edge! Steady!
Watch for a smooth! Give way!
If she feels the lop already
She'll stand on her head in the bay.
It's ebb,it's dusk,it's blowing,
The shoals are a mile of white,
But (snatch her along!) we're going
To find our master to-night.

For we hold that in all disaster
Of shipwreck, storm, or sword,
A Man must stand by his Master
When once he has pledged his word.

Raging seas have we rowed in
But we seldom saw them thus,
Our master is angry with Odin,
Odin is angry with us!
Heavy odds have we taken,
But never before such odds.
The Gods know they are forsaken.
We must risk the wrath of the Gods!

Over the crest she flies from,
Into its hollow she drops,
Cringes and clears her eyes from

Rudyard