Southward to Calais, appalled

And astonished, the vast fleet veers;

And the skies are shrouded and palled,

But the moonless midnight hears

And sees how swift on them drive and drift strange flames that the darkness fears.

They fly through the night from shoreward,

Heart-stricken till morning break,

And ever to scourge them forward

Drives down on them England's Drake,

And hurls them in as they hurtle and spin and stagger, with storm to wake.

[Pg 201]

VI

I

And now is their time come on them. For eastward they drift and reel,

With the shallows of Flanders ahead, with destruction and havoc at heel,

With God for their comfort only, the God whom they serve; and here

Their Lord, of his great loving-kindness, may revel and make good cheer;

Though ever his lips wax thirstier with drinking, and hotter the lusts in him swell;

For he feeds the thirst that consumes him with blood, and his winepress fumes with the reek of hell.

II

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