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| ATTEND all ye who list to hear | |
| Our noble England’s praise! | |
| I tell of the thrice famous deeds | |
| She wrought in ancient days, | |
| When that great fleet invincible | 5 |
| Against her bore in vain | |
| The richest spoils of Mexico, | |
| The stoutest hearts of Spain. | |
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| It was about the lovely close | |
| Of a warm summer day, | 10 |
| There came a gallant merchant-ship | |
| Full sail to Plymouth Bay; | |
| Her crew had seen Castile’s black fleet | |
| Beyond Aurigny’s Isle, | |
| At earliest twilight, on the waves, | 15 |
| Lie heaving many a mile; | |
| At sunrise she escaped their van, | |
| By God’s especial grace; | |
| And the tall Pinta, till the moon, | |
| Had held her close in chase. | 20 |
| Forthwith, a guard at every gun | |
| Was placed along the wall; | |
| The beacon blazed upon the roof | |
| Of Edgecombe’s lofty hall, | |
| And many a fishing-bark put out | 25 |
| To pry along the coast, | |
| And with loose rein and bloody spur | |
| Rode inland many a post. | |
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| With his white hair unbonneted | |
| The stout old sheriff comes; | 30 |
| Behind him march the halberdiers, | |
| Before him sound the drums. | |
| His yeomen round the market-cross | |
| Make clear an ample space, | |
| For there behoves him to set up | 35 |
| The standard of her grace. | |
| And haughtily the trumpets peal, | |
| And gayly dance the bells, | |
| As slow upon the laboring wind | |
| The royal blazon swells. | 40 |
| Look how the lion of the seas | |
| Lifts up his ancient crown, | |
| And underneath his deadly paw | |
| Treads the gay lilies down! | |
| So stalked he when he turned to flight, | 45 |
| On that famed Picard field, | |
| Bohemia’s plume, Genoa’s bow, | |
| And Cæsar’s eagle shield; | |
| So glared he when at Agincourt | |
| In wrath he turned to bay, | 50 |
| And crushed and torn beneath his claws | |
| The princely hunters lay. | |
| Ho! strike the flagstaff deep, Sir Knight, | |
| Ho! scatter flowers, fair maids, | |
| Ho! gunners, fire a loud salute, | 55 |
| Ho! gallants, draw your blades; | |
| Thou sun, shine on her joyously; | |
| Ye breezes, waft her wide; | |
| Our glorious Semper eadem,— | |
| The banner of our pride! | 60 |
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| The freshening breeze of eve unfurled | |
| That banner’s massy fold,— | |
| The parting gleam of sunshine kissed | |
| That haughty scroll of gold; | |
| Night sank upon the dusky beach, | 65 |
| And on the purple sea,— | |
| Such night in England ne’er had been, | |
| Nor e’er again shall be. | |
| From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, | |
| From Lynn to Milford Bay, | 70 |
| That time of slumber was as bright | |
| And busy as the day; | |
| For swift to east and swift to west | |
| The warning radiance spread; | |
| High on St. Michael’s Mount it shone, | 75 |
| It shone on Beachy Head. | |
| Far on the deep the Spaniard saw, | |
| Along each southern shire, | |
| Cape beyond cape, in endless range, | |
| Those twinkling points of fire; | 80 |
| The fisher left his skiff to rock | |
| On Tamar’s glittering waves, | |
| The rugged miners poured to war | |
| From Mendip’s sunless caves. | |
| O’er Longleat’s towers, o’er Cranbourne’s oaks, | 85 |
| The fiery herald flew; | |
| He roused the shepherds of Stonehenge, | |
| The rangers of Beaulieu. | |
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| Right sharp and quick the bells all night | |
| Rang out from Bristol town, | 90 |
| And ere the day three hundred horse | |
| Had met on Clifton down; | |
| The sentinel on Whitehall Gate | |
| Looked forth into the night, | |
| And saw o’erhanging Richmond Hill | 95 |
| The streak of blood-red light. | |
| Then bugle’s note and cannon’s roar | |
| The death-like silence broke, | |
| And with one start and with one cry | |
| The royal city woke. | 100 |
| At once on all her stately gates | |
| Arose the answering fires; | |
| At once the wild alarum clashed | |
| From all her reeling spires; | |
| From all the batteries of the Tower | 105 |
| Pealed loud the voice of fear; | |
| And all the thousand masts of Thames | |
| Sent back a louder cheer; | |
| And from the farthest wards was heard | |
| The rush of hurrying feet, | 110 |
| And the broad streams of flags and pikes | |
| Dashed down each roaring street; | |
| And broader still became the blaze, | |
| And louder still the din, | |
| As fast from every village round | 115 |
| The horse came spurring in; | |
| And eastward straight, from wild Blackheath, | |
| The warlike errand went, | |
| And roused in many an ancient hall, | |
| The gallant squires of Kent. | 120 |
| South ward from Surrey’s pleasant hills | |
| Flew those bright couriers forth; | |
| High on bleak Hempstead’s swarthy moor | |
| They started for the north; | |
| And on and on, without a pause, | 125 |
| Untired they bounded still; | |
| All night from tower to tower they sprang,— | |
| They sprang from hill to hill, | |
| Till the proud Peak unfurled the flag | |
| O’er Darwin’s rocky dales,— | 130 |
| Till like volcanoes flared to heaven | |
| The stormy hills of Wales,— | |
| Till twelve fair counties saw the blaze | |
| On Malvern’s lonely height, | |
| Till streamed in crimson on the wind | 135 |
| The Wrekin’s crest of light,— | |
| Till broad and fierce the star came forth | |
| On Ely’s stately fane, | |
| And tower and hamlet rose in arms | |
| O’er all the boundless plain,— | 140 |
| Till Belvoir’s lordly terraces | |
| The sign to Lincoln sent, | |
| And Lincoln sped the message on | |
| O’er the wide vale of Trent,— | |
| Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burned | 145 |
| On Gaunt’s embattled pile, | |
| And the red glare on Skiddaw roused | |
| The burghers of Carlisle! | |
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