Lyra Heroica Part 29

Forthwith a guard at every gun was placed along the wall; The beacon blazed upon the roof of Edgec.u.mbe's lofty hall; Many a light fis.h.i.+ng-bark put out to pry along the coast, And with loose rein and b.l.o.o.d.y spur rode inland many a post.

With his white hair unbonneted, the stout old sheriff comes; Behind him march the halberdiers; before him sound the drums; His yeomen round the market cross make clear an ample s.p.a.ce; For there behoves him to set up the standard of Her Grace.

And haughtily the trumpets peal, and gaily dance the bells, As slow upon the labouring wind the royal blazon swells.

Look how the Lion of the sea lifts up his ancient crown, And underneath his deadly paw treads the gay lilies down!

So stalked he when he turned to flight, on that famed Picard field, Bohemia's plume, and Genoa's bow, and Caesar's eagle s.h.i.+eld.

So glared he when at Agincourt in wrath he turned to bay, 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; ho! gallants, draw your blades: Thou sun, s.h.i.+ne on her joyously: ye breezes, waft her wide; Our glorious SEMPER EADEM, the banner of our pride.

The freshening breeze of eve unfurled that banner's ma.s.sy fold; The parting gleam of suns.h.i.+ne kissed that haughty scroll of gold; Night sank upon the dusky beach 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, That time of slumber was as bright and busy as the day; For swift to east and swift to west the ghastly war-flame spread, High on St. Michael's Mount it shone: it shone on Beachy Head.

Far on the deep the Spaniard saw, along each southern s.h.i.+re, Cape beyond cape, in endless range, those twinkling points of fire.

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, the fiery herald flew: He roused the shepherds of Stonehenge, the rangers of Beaulieu.

Right sharp and quick the bells all night rang out from Bristol town, 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 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.

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 pealed loud the voice of fear; And all the thousand masts of Thames sent back a louder cheer; And from the furthest wards was heard the rush of hurrying feet, And the broad streams of pikes and flags rushed down each roaring street; And broader still became the blaze, and louder still the din, As fast from every village round 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.

Southward from Surrey's pleasant hills flew those bright couriers forth; High on bleak Hampstead's swarthy moor they started for the north; And on, and on, without a pause, 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, Till like volcanoes flared to heaven the stormy huts of Wales, Till twelve fair counties saw the blaze on Malvern's lonely height, Till streamed in crimson on the wind 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; 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 on Gaunt's embattled pile, And the red glare on Skiddaw roused the burghers of Carlisle.

_Macaulay._

Lx.x.xVI

THE LAST BUCCANEER

The winds were yelling, the waves were swelling, The sky was black and drear, When the crew with eyes of flame brought the s.h.i.+p without a name Alongside the last Buccaneer.

'Whence flies your sloop full sail before so fierce a gale, When all others drive bare on the seas?

Say, come ye from the sh.o.r.e of the holy Salvador, Or the gulf of the rich Caribbees?'

'From a sh.o.r.e no search hath found, from a gulf no line can sound, Without rudder or needle we steer; Above, below, our bark dies the sea-fowl and the shark, As we fly by the last Buccaneer.

To-night there shall be heard on the rocks of Cape de Verde A loud crash and a louder roar; And to-morrow shall the deep with a heavy moaning sweep The corpses and wreck to the sh.o.r.e,'

The stately s.h.i.+p of Clyde securely now may ride In the breath of the citron shades; And Severn's towering mast securely now hies fast, Through the seas of the balmy Trades.

From St Jago's wealthy port, from Havannah's royal fort, The seaman goes forth without fear; For since that stormy night not a mortal hath had sight Of the flag of the last Buccaneer.

_Macaulay._

Lx.x.xVII

A JACOBITE'S EPITAPH

To my true king I offered free from stain Courage and faith; vain faith, and courage vain.

For him, I threw lands, honours, wealth, away, And one dear hope, that was more prized than they.

For him I languished in a foreign clime, Grey-haired with sorrow in my manhood's prime; Heard on Lavernia Scargill's whispering trees, And pined by Arno for my lovelier Tees; Beheld each night my home in fevered sleep, Each morning started from the dream to weep; Till G.o.d, who saw me tried too sorely, gave The resting-place I asked--an early grave.

Oh thou, whom chance leads to this nameless stone, From that proud country which was once mine own, By those white cliffs I never more must see, By that dear language which I speak like thee, Forget all feuds, and shed one English tear O'er English dust. A broken heart lies here.

_Macaulay._

Lx.x.xVIII

THE SONG OF THE WESTERN MEN

A good sword and a trusty hand!

A merry heart and true!

King James's men shall understand What Cornish lads can do.

And have they fixed the where and when?

And shall Trelawny die?

Here's twenty thousand Cornish men Will know the reason why!

Out spake their captain brave and bold, A merry wight was he: 'If London Tower were Michael's hold, We'll set Trelawny free!

We'll cross the Tamar, land to land, The Severn is no stay, With "one and all," and hand in hand, And who shall bid us nay?

And when we come to London Wall, A pleasant sight to view, Come forth! come forth! ye cowards all, Here's men as good as you.

Trelawny he's in keep and hold, Trelawny he may die; But here's twenty thousand Cornish bold Will know the reason why!'

_Hawker._

Lx.x.xIX

THE BUILDING OF THE s.h.i.+P

THE MODEL

'Build me straight, O worthy Master!

Staunch and strong, a goodly vessel, That shall laugh at all disaster, And with wave and whirlwind wrestle!'

The merchant's word Delighted the Master heard; For his heart was in his work, and the heart Giveth grace unto every Art.

A quiet smile played round his lips, As the eddies and dimples of the tide Play round the bows of s.h.i.+ps, That steadily at anchor ride.

And with a voice that was full of glee, He answered, 'Ere long we will launch A vessel as goodly, and strong, and staunch, As ever weathered a wintry sea!'