The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
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III. |
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VIII. |
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XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
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XVI. |
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![]() | 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 | ![]() |