 | English Roses |  |
NELSON.
He washed his face in sea-water,
He drank the stinging brine
Within his veins as wine;
And to the mad wind's dulcimer,
He reached as God's own messenger
A stature half divine;
The sun and clouds alike were good,
And storms with him claimed brotherhood;
While all the motion of the ocean
In free and tameless flood,
With all the graces of wide spaces,
Was mingled in his blood.
He drank the stinging brine
Within his veins as wine;
And to the mad wind's dulcimer,
He reached as God's own messenger
A stature half divine;
The sun and clouds alike were good,
And storms with him claimed brotherhood;
While all the motion of the ocean
In free and tameless flood,
With all the graces of wide spaces,
Was mingled in his blood.
He shaped his course as gallant ships,
That travel fast and far
Beneath the pilot star;
The tempest taught him with its whips
And battle out of iron lips,
That Duty known no bar;
And thus from adverse shades and shocks,
To stepping-stones grew stumbling-blocks;
And the wild shudder of the rudder
Was music to his ears,
The salt surge savour built him braver
Of splendid faiths and fears.
That travel fast and far
Beneath the pilot star;
The tempest taught him with its whips
And battle out of iron lips,
That Duty known no bar;
174
To stepping-stones grew stumbling-blocks;
And the wild shudder of the rudder
Was music to his ears,
The salt surge savour built him braver
Of splendid faiths and fears.
His roof was but the open sky,
His walls the open air,
And with their freshness fair
He learnt as stately days went by
The secret of Eternity,
The riddle of despair:
And thence came ready to his hand,
The royal instinct of command;
And by his folding trials' moulding
He gathered conquering will,
And from their cruel furnace fuel
Plucked victory out of ill.
His walls the open air,
And with their freshness fair
He learnt as stately days went by
The secret of Eternity,
The riddle of despair:
And thence came ready to his hand,
The royal instinct of command;
And by his folding trials' moulding
He gathered conquering will,
And from their cruel furnace fuel
Plucked victory out of ill.
Thereby he quarried him a name
For ever broad and bright,
Which is our beacon light;
And his is one with England's fame
That carries down its scorn of shame,
To be our common right;
And still he holds our country's helm,
The guide and glory of the Realm:
And now with thunder voice the wonder
Of his tremendous charge,
A signal flying on undying,
Shall write our history large.
For ever broad and bright,
Which is our beacon light;
And his is one with England's fame
That carries down its scorn of shame,
To be our common right;
And still he holds our country's helm,
The guide and glory of the Realm:
And now with thunder voice the wonder
Of his tremendous charge,
A signal flying on undying,
Shall write our history large.
| English Roses | |