Ye Mariners Of England

Ye Mariners of England
That guard our native seas,
Whose flag has braved, a thousand years,
The battle and the breeze,
Your glorious standard launch again
To match another foe!
And sweep through the deep,
While the stormy winds do blow,
While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow.
The spirits of your fathers
Shall start from every wave!
For the deck it was their field of fame,
And Ocean was their grave.
Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell
Your manly hearts shall glow,
As ye sweep through the deep,
While the stormy winds do blow,
While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow.
Britannia needs no bulwarks,
No towers along the steep;
Her march is o'er the mountain waves,
Her home is on the deep.
With thunders from her native oak
She quells the floods below,
As they roar on the shore
When the stormy winds do blow,
When the battle rages loud and long
And the stormy winds do blow.
The meteor flag of England
Shall yet terrific burn,
Till danger's troubled night depart
And the star of peace return.
Then, then, ye ocean warriors!
Our song and feast shall flow
To the fame of your name,
When the storm has ceased to blow,
When the fiery fight is heard no more,
And the storm has ceased to blow.

Thomas Campbell

Thomas Campbell was a Scottish poet, born on July 27, 1777, and is best known for his sentimental poetry. His most famous works are 'The Pleasures of Hope' and 'Gertrude of Wyoming'. Campbell was also an advocate for the establishment of the University of London and the author of several historical works. He passed away on June 15, 1844. Campbell's lyrical verses often reflected themes of patriotism and humanism, and his contributions to literature have been recognized for their emotional depth and rhythm.

Thomas Campbell

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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

War-Ships In Port.

The tread of armèd mariners is in our streets to-day,
An Empire's pulse is beating in the march of this array.
From western woods, and Celtic hills, and homely Saxon shires,
They sailed beneath the "meteor flag," the emblem of our sires;
And for the glory that has been, the pride that yet may be,
We hail them in the sacred names of home and liberty,
And know that not on sea or land more dauntless hearts there are
Than the hearts of these bold seamen from the English men-of-war.

Trafalgar's fame-crowned hero stands, encarved in storied stone,
And from his place of honor looks in silence and alone:
But no, to-day his spirit lives, and walks the crowded way;
For us Drake, Hawkins, Frobisher and Howard live to-day;
For us from many a page of eld, 'mid war and tempest blast,

W. M. MacKeracher

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 Song Of The Flag.

I.

        Up with the country's flag!
        And let the winds caress it, fold on fold,--
        A stainless flag, and glorious to behold!
        It is our honour's pledge;
        It is the token of a truth sublime,
        A thing to die for, and to wonder at,
        When, on the shuddering edge
        Of some great storm, it waves its woven joy,
        Which no man shall destroy,
        In shine or shower, in peace or battle-time.
        Up with the flag!
        The winds are wild to toss it, and to brag
        Of England's high renown,--
        And of the throne where Chivalry has sat
        Acclaimed in bower and town
        For England's high renown!--
        And of these happy isles where men are free
        And masters o...

Eric Mackay

The Cumberland

At anchor in Hampton Roads we lay,
    On board of the cumberland, sloop-of-war;
And at times from the fortress across the bay
    The alarum of drums swept past,
    Or a bugle blast
    From the camp on the shore.

Then far away to the south uprose
    A little feather of snow-white smoke,
And we knew that the iron ship of our foes
    Was steadily steering its course
    To try the force
    Of our ribs of oak.

Down upon us heavily runs,
    Silent and sullen, the floating fort;
Then comes a puff of smoke from her guns,
    And leaps the terrible death,
    With fiery breath,
    From each open port.

We are not idle, but send her straight
    Defiance back in a full broadside!
As hail rebounds from a roof of slate,
...

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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