And the tempest of ships that drive

Sets eastward ever and eastward,

Till closer they strain and strive;

And the shots that rain on the hulls of Spain are as thunders afire and alive.

[Pg 200]

And about them the blithe sea smiles

And flashes to windward and lee

Round capes and headlands and isles

That heed not if war there be;

Round Sark, round Wight, green jewels of light in the ring of the golden sea.

But the men that within them abide

Are stout of spirit and stark

As rocks that repel the tide,

As day that repels the dark;

And the light bequeathed from their swords unsheathed shines lineal on Wight and on Sark.

And eastward the storm sets ever,

The storm of the sails that strain

And follow and close and sever

And lose and return and gain;

And English thunder divides in sunder the holds of the ships of Spain.

 Prev. P 35/134 next