University of Virginia Library


28

AN OLD MAN-O'-WAR'S-MAN'S YARN.

Ay, ay, good Neighbours, I have seen
Him! sure as God's my life;
One of his chosen crew I've been;
Haven't I, old Good Wife?
God bless your dear eyes! didn't you vow
To marry me any weather,
If I came back with limbs enow
To keep my soul together?
Brave as a Lion was our Nel,
And gentle as a lamb:
It warms my blood once more to tell
The tale—gray as I am—
It makes the old life in me climb,
It sets my soul a-swim;
I live twice over every time
That I can talk of him.
You should have seen him as he trod
The deck, our joy, and pride;
You should have seen him, like a God
Of storm, his War-horse ride!
You should have seen him as he stood
Fighting for our good land,
With all the iron of soul and blood
Turned to a sword in hand.
Our best beloved of all the brave
That ever for Freedom fought;
And all his wonders of the wave
For Fatherland were wrought!

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He was the manner of man to show
How victories may be won;
So swift, you scarcely saw the blow;
You looked—the deed was done.
He sailed his Ships for work; he bore
His sword for battle-wear;
His creed was “Best man to the fore;”
And he was always there.
Up any peak of peril where
There was but room for one:
The only thing he did not dare
Was any death to shun.
The Nelson-touch his men he taught,
And his great stride to keep;
His faithful fellows round him fought
Ten thousand heroes deep.
With a red pride of life, and hot
For him, their blood ran free;
They “minded not the showers of shot,
No more than peas,” said he.
Napoleon saw our Sea-king thwart
His landing on our Isle;
He gnashed his teeth, he gnawed his heart,
At Nelson of the Nile,
Who set his fleet in flames, to light
The Lion to his prey,
And lead Destruction through the night
Upon his dreadful way.
Around the world he drove his game,
And ran his glorious race;
Nor rested till he hunted them
From off the Ocean's face;

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Like that old War-dog who, till death,
Clung to the vessel's side
Till hands were lopped, then with his teeth
He held on till he died.
Ay, he could do the deeds that set
Old Fighters' hearts afire;
The edge of every spirit whet,
And every arm inspire.
Yet I have seen upon his face
The tears that, as they roll,
Show what a light of saintly grace
May clothe a Sailor's soul.
And when our Darling went to meet
Trafalgar's Judgment-day,
The people knelt down in the street
To bless him on his way.
He felt the Country of his love
Watching him from afar;
It saw him through the battle move;
His heaven was in that star.
Magnificently glorious sight
It was in that great dawn!
Like one vast sapphire flashing light,
The sea, just breathing, shone.
Their ships, fresh-painted, stood up tall
And stately: ours were grim
And weatherworn, but one and all
In rare good fighting trim.
Our spirits were all flying light,
And into battle sped,
Straining for it on wings of might,
With feet of springy tread;

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The light of battle on each face;
Its lust in every eye;
Our Sailor-blood at swiftest pace
To catch the victory nigh.
His proudly-wasted face, wave-worn,
Was loftily serene;
I saw the brave, bright spirit burn
There, all too plainly seen;
As though the sword this time was drawn
Forever from the sheath;
And when its work to-day was done,
All would be dark in death.
His eye shone like a lamp of night
Set in the porch of power;
The deed unborn was burning bright
Within him at that hour!
His purpose, welded at white-heat,
Cried like some visible Fate,
“To-day we must not merely beat:
We will Annihilate.”
He smiled to see the Frenchman show
His reckoning for retreat,
With Cadiz port on his lee-bow;
And held him then half beat.
They flew no Colours, till we drew
Them out to strike with there!
Old Victory, for a prize or two,
Had flags enough to spare.
Mast-high the famous signal ran;
Breathless we caught each word:
“England expects that every man
Will do his duty.” Lord,

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You should have seen our faces! heard
Us cheering, row on row;
Like men before some furnace stirred
To a fiery fearful glow!
'Twas Collingwood our Lee line led,
And cut their centre through.
See how he goes in!” Nelson said,
As his first broadside flew,
And near four hundred foemen fall.
Up went another cheer.
Ah, what would Nelson give,” said Coll
“But to be with us here!”
We grimly kept our vanward path;
Over us hummed their shot;
But, silently, we reined our wrath,
Held on, and answered not,
Till we could grip them face to face,
And pound them for our own,
Or hug them in a war-embrace,
Till one or both went down.
How calm he was! when first he felt
The sharp edge of that fight.
Cabined with God alone he knelt;
The prayer still lay in light
Upon his face, that used to shine
In battle,—flash with life,
As though the glorious blood ran wine,
Dancing with that wild strife.
“Fight for us, Thou Almighty One!
Give victory once again!
And if I fall, Thy will be done:
Amen, Amen, Amen!”

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With such a voice he bade good-bye;
The mournfullest old smile wore:
“Farewell! God bless you, Blackwood, I
Shall never see you more.”
And four hours after, he had done
With winds and troubled foam.
The Reaper was borne dead upon
Our load of Harvest-home—
Not till he knew the Old Flag flew
Alone on all the deep;
Then said he, “Hardy, is that you?
Kiss me.” And fell asleep.
Well, 'twas his chosen death below
The deck in triumph trod;
'Tis well. A Sailor's soul should go
From his good ship to God.
He would have chosen death aboard,
From all the crowns of rest;
And burial with the Patriot sword
Upon the Victor's breast.
Not a great sinner.” No, dear heart,
God grant in our death-pain,
We may have played as well our part,
And feel as free from stain.
We see the spots on such a star,
Because it burned so bright;
But on the other side they are
All lost in greater light.
And so he went upon his way,
A higher deck to walk,
Or sit in some eternal day,
And of the old time talk

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With Sailors old, who, on that coast,
Welcome the homeward bound;
Where many a gallant soul we've lost
And Franklin will be found.
Where amidst London's roar and moil
That cross of peace upstands,
Like Martyr with his heavenward smile,
And flame-lit, lifted hands,
There lies the dark and mouldered dust;
But that magnanimous
And manly Seaman's soul, I trust,
Lives on in some of us.