Collected Poems 1897 - 1907 | Page 2

My flag will be fluttering still."
Splinters were flying above, below, When Nelson sailed the Sound: "Mark you, I wouldn't be elsewhere now," Said he, "for a thousand pound!" The Admiral's signal bade him fly But he wickedly wagged his head: He clapped the glass to his sightless eye, And "I'm damned if I see it!" he said.
Admirals all, they said their say (The echoes are ringing still). Admirals all, they went their way To the haven under the hill. But they left us a kingdom none can take, The realm of the circling sea, To be ruled by the rightful sons of Blake, And the Rodneys yet to be.
Admirals all, for England's sake, Honour be yours and fame! And honour, as long as waves shall break, To Nelson's peerless name!

San Stefano
(A Ballad of the Bold Menelaus)
It was morning at St. Helen's, in the great and gallant days, And the sea beneath the sun glittered wide, When the frigate set her courses, all a-shimmer in the haze And she hauled her cable home and took the tide. She'd a right fighting company, three hundred men and more, Nine and forty guns in tackle running free; And they cheered her from the shore for her colours at the fore, When the bold Menelaus put to sea.
She'd a right fighting company, three hundred men and more, Nine and forty guns in tackle running free; And they cheered her from the shore for her colours at the fore, When the bold Menelaus put to sea.
She was clear of Monte Cristo, she was heading for the land, When she spied a pennant red and white and blue; They were foemen, and they knew it, and they'd half a league in hand, But she flung aloft her royals, and she flew. She was nearer, nearer, nearer, they were caught beyond a doubt, But they slipped her into Orbetello Bay, And the lubbers gave a shout as they paid their cables out, With the guns grinning round them where they lay.
Now, Sir Peter was a captain of a famous fighting race, Son and grandson of an admiral was he; And he looked upon the batteries, he looked upon the chase, And he heard the shout that echoed out to sea. And he called across the decks, "Ay! the cheering might be late If they kept it till the Menelaus runs; Bid the master and his mate heave the lead and lay her straight For the prize lying yonder by the guns!"
When the summer moon was setting, into Orbetello Bay Came the Menelaus gliding like a ghost; And her boats were manned in silence, and in silence pulled away, And in silence every gunner took his post. With a volley from her broadside the citadel she woke, And they hammered back like heroes all the night; But before the morning broke she had vanished through the smoke With her prize upon her quarter grappled tight.
It was evening at St. Helen's in the great and gallant time, And the sky behind the down was flushing far; And the flags were all a-flutter, and the bells were all a-chime, When the frigate cast her anchor off the bar. She'd a right fighting company, three hundred men and more, Nine and forty guns in tackle running free; And they cheered her from the shore for the colours at the fore, When the bold Menelaus came from the sea.
She'd a right fighting company, three hundred men and more, Nine and forty guns in tackle running free; And they cheered her from the shore for her colours at the fore, When the bold Menelaus came from the sea.

Hawke
In seventeen hundred and fifty-nine, When Hawke came swooping from the West, The French King's Admiral with twenty of the line, Was sailing forth to sack us, out of Brest. The ports of France were crowded, the quays of France a-hum With thirty thousand soldiers marching to the drum, For bragging time was over and fighting time was come When Hawke came swooping from the West.
'Twas long past noon of a wild November day When Hawke came swooping from the West; He heard the breakers thundering in Quiberon Bay, But he flew the flag for battle, line abreast. Down upon the quicksands roaring out of sight Fiercely beat the storm-wind, darkly fell the night, But they took the foe for pilot and the cannon's glare for light When Hawke came swooping from the West.
The Frenchmen turned like a covey down the wind When Hawke came swooping from the West; One he sank with all hands, one he caught and pinned, And the shallows and the storm took the rest. The guns that should have conquered us they rusted on the shore, The men that would have mastered us they drummed and marched no more, For England