The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
I. |
II. |
I. |
II. |
XXXIII. |
XXXIV. |
XXXV. |
XXXVI. |
XXXVII. |
XXXVIII. |
XXXIX. |
XL. |
XLI. |
XLII. |
XLIII. |
XLIV. |
XLV. |
XLVI. |
XLVII. |
XLVIII. |
XLIX. |
L. |
LI. |
LII. |
LIII. |
LIV. |
LV. |
LVI. |
LVII. |
LVIII. |
LIX. |
LX. |
LXI. |
LXII. |
LXIII. |
LXIV. |
LXV. |
LXVI. |
LXVII. |
LXVIII. |
LXIX. |
LXX. |
LXXI. |
LXXII. |
LXXIII. |
LXXIV. |
LXXV. |
LXXVI. |
LXXVII. |
LXXVIII. |
LXXIX. |
LXXX. |
III. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
The Poetical Works of George Barlow | ||
193
SONNET XXXIII
THE ENGLISH RACE
The English spirits round me are mine own.—.
The Vikings' yearning is within my blood;
The grey dim splendid endless ocean-flood
Whose seething spray against my lips is thrown,
Upward and shoreward by the salt winds blown,
Is that whereon their white-sailed fierce ships stood:—
And every tide hath laved our walls of wood,
And every shore hath heard our cannons' tone.
The Vikings' yearning is within my blood;
The grey dim splendid endless ocean-flood
Whose seething spray against my lips is thrown,
Upward and shoreward by the salt winds blown,
Is that whereon their white-sailed fierce ships stood:—
And every tide hath laved our walls of wood,
And every shore hath heard our cannons' tone.
Though Greece be dear, yet am I of the race
That held the blood-stained plain of Waterloo,
Hour after hour, each soldier in his place,
Till sunset slipped their tight-strained leash,—and who
(One small ship's obstinate and dauntless crew)
Looked the whole Spanish navy in the face.
That held the blood-stained plain of Waterloo,
Hour after hour, each soldier in his place,
Till sunset slipped their tight-strained leash,—and who
(One small ship's obstinate and dauntless crew)
Looked the whole Spanish navy in the face.
The Poetical Works of George Barlow | ||