YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND

A NAVAL ODE

I

 
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 meet another foe!
And sweep through the deep,
While the stormy tempests blow;
While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy tempests blow.
 

II

 
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 tempests blow
While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy tempests blow.
 

III

 
Britannia needs no bulwark,
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 tempests blow;
When the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy tempests blow.
 

IV

 
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.
 

T. Campbell.

THE GIRL DESCRIBES HER FAWN

 
With sweetest milk and sugar first
I it at my own fingers nursed;
And as it grew, so every day
It wax’d more white and sweet than they.
It had so sweet a breath! and oft
I blush’d to see its foot more soft
And white, shall I say, than my hand?
Nay, any lady’s of the land!
It is a wond’rous thing how fleet
’Twas on those little silver feet:
With what a pretty skipping grace
It oft would challenge me the race;
And when ’t had left me far away
’Twould stay, and run again, and stay,
For it was nimbler much than hinds;
And trod as if on the four winds.
 
 
I have a garden of my own,
But so with roses overgrown,
And lilies, that you would it guess
To be a little wilderness,
And all the spring-time of the year
It only loved to be there.
Among the beds of lilies I
Have sought it oft, where it should lie;
Yet could not, till itself would rise,
Find it, although before mine eyes.
For, in the flaxen lilies’ shade
It like a bank of lilies laid.
Upon the roses it would feed,
Until its lips e’en seem’d to bleed;
And then to me ’twould boldly trip,
And print those roses on my lip.
But all its chief delight was still
On roses thus itself to fill;
And its pure virgin limbs to fold
In whitest sheets of lilies cold.
Had it lived long, it would have been
Lilies without, roses within.
 

A. Marvell.

THE SOLDIER’S DREAM

 
Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lower’d,
And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky;
And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower’d,
The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.
 
 
When reposing that night on my pallet of straw
By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain,
At the dead of the night a sweet Vision I saw;
And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again.
 
 
Methought from the battle-field’s dreadful array
Far, far, I had roam’d on a desolate track:
’Twas Autumn, – and sunshine arose on the way
To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.
 
 
I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft
In life’s morning march, when my bosom was young;
I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,
And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.
 
 
Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore
From my home and my weeping friends never to part;
My little ones kiss’d me a thousand times o’er,
And my wife sobb’d aloud in her fulness of heart.
 
 
‘Stay – stay with us! – rest! – thou art weary and worn!’ —
And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay; —
But sorrow return’d with the dawning of morn,
And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.
 

T. Campbell.

JOHN GILPIN

 
John Gilpin was a citizen
Of credit and renown,
A train-band Captain eke was he
Of famous London town.
 
 
John Gilpin’s spouse said to her dear,
Though wedded we have been
These twice ten tedious years, yet we
No holiday have seen.
 
 
To-morrow is our wedding-day,
And we will then repair
Unto the Bell at Edmonton,
All in a chaise and pair.
 
 
My sister and my sister’s child,
Myself, and children three,
Will fill the chaise; so you must ride
On horseback after we.
 
 
He soon replied, – I do admire
Of womankind but one,
And you are she, my dearest dear,
Therefore it shall be done.
 
 
I am a linendraper bold,
As all the world doth know,
And my good friend, the Callender,
Will lend his horse to go.
 
 
Quoth Mistress Gilpin, – That’s well said;
And for that wine is dear,
We will be furnish’d with our own,
Which is both bright and clear.
 
 
John Gilpin kiss’d his loving wife;
O’erjoy’d was he to find
That though on pleasure she was bent,
She had a frugal mind.
 
 
The morning came, the chaise was brought,
But yet was not allow’d
To drive up to the door, lest all
Should say that she was proud.
 
 
So three doors off the chaise was stay’d,
Where they did all get in,
Six precious souls, and all agog
To dash through thick and thin.
 
 
Smack went the whip, round went the wheels;
Were never folks so glad,
The stones did rattle underneath,
As if Cheapside were mad.
 
 
John Gilpin at his horse’s side,
Seized fast the flowing mane,
And up he got in haste to ride,
But soon came down again.
 
 
For saddle-tree scarce reach’d had he,
His journey to begin,
When turning round his head he saw
Three customers come in.
 
 
So down he came, for loss of time
Although it grieved him sore,
Yet loss of pence, full well he knew,
Would trouble him much more.
 
 
’Twas long before the customers
Were suited to their mind,
When Betty screaming came downstairs,
The wine is left behind.
 
 
Good lack! quoth he, yet bring it me,
My leathern belt likewise
In which I bear my trusty sword
When I do exercise.
 
 
Now Mistress Gilpin, careful soul,
Had two stone bottles found,
To hold the liquor that she loved,
And keep it safe and sound.
 
 
Each bottle had a curling ear,
Through which the belt he drew,
And hung a bottle on each side
To make his balance true.
 
 
Then over all, that he might be
Equipp’d from top to toe,
His long red cloak well-brush’d and neat,
He manfully did throw.
 
 
Now see him mounted once again
Upon his nimble steed,
Full slowly pacing o’er the stones,
With caution and good heed.
 
 
But finding soon a smoother road
Beneath his well-shod feet,
The snorting beast began to trot,
Which gall’d him in his seat.
 
 
So, Fair and softly! John he cried,
But John he cried in vain;
That trot became a gallop soon,
In spite of curb and rein.
 
 
So stooping down, as needs he must
Who cannot sit upright,
He grasp’d the mane with both his hands
And eke with all his might.
 
 
His horse, who never in that sort
Had handled been before,
What thing upon his back had got
Did wonder more and more.
 
 
Away went Gilpin neck or nought,
Away went hat and wig;
He little dreamt, when he set out,
Of running such a rig.
 
 
The wind did blow, the cloak did fly,
Like streamer long and gay,
Till, loop and button failing both,
At last it flew away.
 
 
Then might all people well discern
The bottles he had slung;
A bottle swinging at each side
As hath been said or sung.
 
 
The dogs did bark, the children scream’d,
Up flew the windows all,
And every soul cried out, Well done!
As loud as he could bawl.
 
 
Away went Gilpin – who but he?
His fame soon spread around,
He carries weight, he rides a race,
’Tis for a thousand pound.
 
 
And still as fast as he drew near,
’Twas wonderful to view
How in a trice the turnpike-men
Their gates wide open threw.
 
 
And now as he went bowing down
His reeking head full low,
The bottles twain behind his back
Were shatter’d at a blow.
 
 
Down ran the wine into the road
Most piteous to be seen,
Which made his horse’s flanks to smoke
As they had basted been.
 
 
But still he seem’d to carry weight,
With leathern girdle braced,
For all might see the bottle-necks
Still dangling at his waist.
 
 
Thus all through merry Islington
These gambols he did play,
And till he came unto the Wash
Of Edmonton so gay.
 
 
And there he threw the Wash about
On both sides of the way,
Just like unto a trundling mop,
Or a wild-goose at play.
 
 
At Edmonton his loving wife
From the balcòny spied
Her tender husband, wondering much
To see how he did ride.
 
 
Stop, stop, John Gilpin! – Here’s the house —
They all at once did cry,
The dinner waits, and we are tired;
Said Gilpin – So am I!
 
 
But yet his horse was not a whit
Inclined to tarry there,
For why? his owner had a house
Full ten miles off, at Ware.
 
 
So like an arrow swift he flew
Shot by an archer strong,
So did he fly – which brings me to
The middle of my song.
 
 
Away went Gilpin, out of breath,
And sore against his will,
Till at his friend the Callender’s
His horse at last stood still.
 
 
The Callender, amazed to see
His neighbour in such trim,
Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate,
And thus accosted him —
 
 
What news? what news? your tidings tell,
Tell me you must and shall —
Say, why bareheaded you are come,
Or why you come at all?
 
 
Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit,
And loved a timely joke,
And thus unto the Callender
In merry guise he spoke —
 
 
I came because your horse would come;
And if I well forbode,
My hat and wig will soon be here,
They are upon the road.
 
 
The Callender, right glad to find
His friend in merry pin,
Return’d him not a single word,
But to the house went in.
 
 
Whence straight he came with hat and wig,
A wig that flow’d behind,
A hat not much the worse for wear,
Each comely in its kind.
 
 
He held them up, and in his turn
Thus show’d his ready wit,
My head is twice as big as yours,
They therefore needs must fit.
 
 
But let me scrape the dirt away,
That hangs upon your face;
And stop and eat, for well you may
Be in a hungry case.
 
 
Said John – It is my wedding-day,
And all the world would stare,
If wife should dine at Edmonton
And I should dine at Ware.
 
 
So, turning to his horse, he said,
I am in haste to dine,
’Twas for your pleasure you came here,
You shall go back for mine.
 
 
Ah, luckless speech, and bootless boast!
For which he paid full dear,
For while he spake a braying ass
Did sing most loud and clear.
 
 
Whereat his horse did snort as he
Had heard a lion roar,
And gallop’d off with all his might,
As he had done before.
 
 
Away went Gilpin, and away
Went Gilpin’s hat and wig;
He lost them sooner than at first,
For why? they were too big.
 
 
Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw
Her husband posting down
Into the country far away,
She pull’d out half-a-crown;
 
 
And thus unto the youth she said,
That drove them to the Bell,
This shall be yours, when you bring back
My husband safe and well.
 
 
The youth did ride, and soon did meet
John coming back amain,
Whom in a trice he tried to stop
By catching at his rein.
 
 
But not performing what he meant,
And gladly would have done,
The frighten’d steed he frighten’d more
And made him faster run.
 
 
Away went Gilpin, and away
Went postboy at his heels,
The postboy’s horse right glad to miss
The lumbering of the wheels.
 
 
Six gentlemen upon the road
Thus seeing Gilpin fly,
With postboy scampering in the rear,
They raised the hue and cry.
 
 
Stop thief! – stop thief! – a highwayman!
Not one of them was mute,
And all and each that pass’d that way
Did join in the pursuit.
 
 
And now the turnpike gates again
Flew open in short space,
The toll-men thinking as before
That Gilpin rode a race.
 
 
And so he did and won it too,
For he got first to town,
Nor stopp’d till where he had got up
He did again get down.
 
 
– Now let us sing, Long live the king,
And Gilpin long live he,
And when he next doth ride abroad,
May I be there to see!
 

W. Cowper.