 | Songs and ballads |  |
THE SHIPS OF ENGLAND.
The ships!—the ships of England! how gallantly they sweep
By town and city, fort and tower,—defenders of the deep!
We build no bastions 'gainst the foe, no mighty walls of stone;
Our warlike castles breast the tide—the boundless sea 's their own!
By town and city, fort and tower,—defenders of the deep!
We build no bastions 'gainst the foe, no mighty walls of stone;
Our warlike castles breast the tide—the boundless sea 's their own!
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The ships!—the ships of England! What British heart is cold
To the honour of his native isle, to the deathless deeds of old?
From quenched Armada's vaunted power, to glorious Trafalgār,—
From Philip to Napoleon—when set Britannia's star?
To the honour of his native isle, to the deathless deeds of old?
From quenched Armada's vaunted power, to glorious Trafalgār,—
From Philip to Napoleon—when set Britannia's star?
The ships!—the ships of England! Where'er the surges roar,—
Along the dark Atlantic, by the wild East-Indian shore—
Where icebergs flash destruction down, or sultry breezes play—
The flag of England floats alone, and triumphs on her way!
Along the dark Atlantic, by the wild East-Indian shore—
Where icebergs flash destruction down, or sultry breezes play—
The flag of England floats alone, and triumphs on her way!
Where sweeps the wind, or swells the wave, our vessels glad the view;
The wondering savage marks their decks, and stays his swift canoe:
The Greenlander forsakes his sledge to watch each distant sail
Pass, like a spirit of the deep, beneath the moonlight pale.
The wondering savage marks their decks, and stays his swift canoe:
The Greenlander forsakes his sledge to watch each distant sail
Pass, like a spirit of the deep, beneath the moonlight pale.
Oh, wives, that love your cottage-homes! Oh, maids, that love the green!
And youths, in whose firm, fearless limbs, a freeborn grace is seen,—
Give honour to the noble ships, that fame and freedom lend,
And bid your songs of gratitude from hill and vale ascend!
And youths, in whose firm, fearless limbs, a freeborn grace is seen,—
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And bid your songs of gratitude from hill and vale ascend!
What horrors of the midnight storm our reckless seamen know,
When thunders rattle overhead, and billows plunge below;
When howls the long ferocious blast, like some funereal strain,
And fast and far the vessel drives along the dreadful main!
When thunders rattle overhead, and billows plunge below;
When howls the long ferocious blast, like some funereal strain,
And fast and far the vessel drives along the dreadful main!
How oft the cannon of the foe hath struck their dauntless breast,
While ye smiled o'er the social fire, or found the balm of rest!
How oft the shriek of drowning men the startled vulture caught,
When ye had closed your doors in peace, and home's sweet pleasures sought!
While ye smiled o'er the social fire, or found the balm of rest!
How oft the shriek of drowning men the startled vulture caught,
When ye had closed your doors in peace, and home's sweet pleasures sought!
Then wake your songs of gratitude to those who brave the sea,
And peril life that ye may live, and still prove fair and free:
Amidst your harvest-fields, oh, bid this earnest prayer prevail:—
“God guard the ships of England, o'er whatever sea they sail!”
And peril life that ye may live, and still prove fair and free:
Amidst your harvest-fields, oh, bid this earnest prayer prevail:—
“God guard the ships of England, o'er whatever sea they sail!”
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