The Anniversaries Poems in Commemoration of Great Men and Great Events. By Thomas H. Gill |
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November 19.
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November 19.
THE SPANISH ARMADA.
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On this day, 1588, was holden the most general of the many thanksgivings for the overthrow of the Spanish Armada in the summer of that year, followed on November 24 by Elizabeth's procession to St. Paul's.
“May we still remember in our solemn thanksgivings how for us
the Northern Ocean even to the frozen Thule was scattered with the
proud shipwrecks of the Spanish Armada.”
—
Milton, Reformation in England, Bk. 2.
“When that navy called Invincible, swelled with pride and secure
of victory, had entered the narrow sea to the fear and astonishment of
Europe, it neither took a cock-boat at sea nor burnt a cottage at land,
nor once touched upon the coast, but was miserably scattered and put
to flight, and at last dashed upon the rocks.”
—
Bacon
on the Felicitie of Queen Elizabeth.
Uprise, uprise, imperial Spain,
To the full measure of thy might!
Gather around thee thy far-reaching train!
Convene thy subject nations to the fight!
Go forth the little Isle to smite,
When stretcheth round the world thy reign,
When sunlike flames thy glory bright!
Nor arm in haste, nor fitful fury breathe;
Thy longwrought, slowly sharpened sword unsheathe!
The toil of seven long years expend
This marvel of the main to raise;
Each beam of thy wide brightness blend
Into a world-confounding blaze—
No strain on thy vast strength withhold,
Nor spare each vassal realm, nor stint thy Western gold!
Call forth thy men of might
Ablaze with glory from Lepanto's fight
To dim that lustre in the mightier fame
Of England's fallen throne and quenchëd name!
Summon thine Alexander to the field
Against the doomëd land his unmatched sword to wield!
The ocean with thine armament surprise,
And ask its fellow of the centuries!
With more than lust of glory burn!
For more than widened empire yearn!
With more than pride the wonder greet!
Trust more than treasure to thy fleet!
Revere the marvel that shall overwhelm
The misbelieving Queen in the accursëd realm!
Stern Philip, o'er the toil of years,
O'er the ripe vengeance darkly smile!
Let loose thy hoarded wrath, and strain thine ears
For news of captive queen and conquered isle!
Glad Antichrist, the fleet with blessings freight!
The invincible Armada consecrate
To bruise the loathëd realm that mocks thy reign,
To smite the abhorrëd Queen that bears thy curse in vain!
Sweep on, tremendous fleet, to clutch thy prey!
Defy the storm to bar thy fated way!
Into the Narrow Seas majestic stream!
Behold the doomëd shores! note how the white cliffs gleam!
To the full measure of thy might!
Gather around thee thy far-reaching train!
Convene thy subject nations to the fight!
143
When stretcheth round the world thy reign,
When sunlike flames thy glory bright!
Nor arm in haste, nor fitful fury breathe;
Thy longwrought, slowly sharpened sword unsheathe!
The toil of seven long years expend
This marvel of the main to raise;
Each beam of thy wide brightness blend
Into a world-confounding blaze—
No strain on thy vast strength withhold,
Nor spare each vassal realm, nor stint thy Western gold!
Call forth thy men of might
Ablaze with glory from Lepanto's fight
To dim that lustre in the mightier fame
Of England's fallen throne and quenchëd name!
144
Against the doomëd land his unmatched sword to wield!
The ocean with thine armament surprise,
And ask its fellow of the centuries!
With more than lust of glory burn!
For more than widened empire yearn!
With more than pride the wonder greet!
Trust more than treasure to thy fleet!
Revere the marvel that shall overwhelm
The misbelieving Queen in the accursëd realm!
Stern Philip, o'er the toil of years,
O'er the ripe vengeance darkly smile!
Let loose thy hoarded wrath, and strain thine ears
For news of captive queen and conquered isle!
Glad Antichrist, the fleet with blessings freight!
The invincible Armada consecrate
145
To smite the abhorrëd Queen that bears thy curse in vain!
Sweep on, tremendous fleet, to clutch thy prey!
Defy the storm to bar thy fated way!
Into the Narrow Seas majestic stream!
Behold the doomëd shores! note how the white cliffs gleam!
But look again! an armëd throng
From those white cliffs returns the gaze;
Defiant bands those shores along
Wave gleaming swords, bright banners raise.
O steadfast Isle! thou dost not quake
Before this marvel of the main;
O mighty Maid! thou dost not shake
For the blent bolts of Rome and Spain.
Upspringeth England strong and glad;
One heart, one hand she lifteth high,
In the bright threefold armour clad
Of Freedom, Faith, and Loyalty.
Burns in her eye calm, steadfast fire;
Breatheth her soul heroic breath;
More fiery glows her blood, her heart beats higher
Beneath the smile of her Elizabeth.
Break forth into full glory, mighty Maiden!
Glow with the awful hour, the armëd Isle!
Thine England bringeth thee her heart love-laden;
Thine England smileth back thy glorious smile.
Sunlike thou beamest thy glad host upon,
Rides through the glowing ranks that stately Amazon.
What greetings, what love-tokens pass between
The enamoured nation and the smiling Queen!
What gladsome cheer her lofty lips let fall!
In her full eye what light heroical!
What hand is slack? what heart is sad?
What warrior is not strong and glad?
O! welcome fight, O! welcome death
For God, for England, for Elizabeth!
Yes, England, more than Spain defy!
For more than freedom do or die!
Go forth in a more awful name!
Burn, burn with a diviner flame!
'Tis Antichrist that stirs the fight,
That striketh with the Spaniard's sword:
O yield not up God's blessed light!
O let not go that open Word!
Back Rome her curse disdainful fling!
Lean trustful on thy guardian God—
Scatter those sea-birds foul that darkness bring,
And leave a world by freemen to be trod!
From those white cliffs returns the gaze;
Defiant bands those shores along
Wave gleaming swords, bright banners raise.
O steadfast Isle! thou dost not quake
Before this marvel of the main;
O mighty Maid! thou dost not shake
For the blent bolts of Rome and Spain.
Upspringeth England strong and glad;
One heart, one hand she lifteth high,
146
Of Freedom, Faith, and Loyalty.
Burns in her eye calm, steadfast fire;
Breatheth her soul heroic breath;
More fiery glows her blood, her heart beats higher
Beneath the smile of her Elizabeth.
Break forth into full glory, mighty Maiden!
Glow with the awful hour, the armëd Isle!
Thine England bringeth thee her heart love-laden;
Thine England smileth back thy glorious smile.
Sunlike thou beamest thy glad host upon,
Rides through the glowing ranks that stately Amazon.
What greetings, what love-tokens pass between
The enamoured nation and the smiling Queen!
What gladsome cheer her lofty lips let fall!
In her full eye what light heroical!
What hand is slack? what heart is sad?
What warrior is not strong and glad?
147
For God, for England, for Elizabeth!
Yes, England, more than Spain defy!
For more than freedom do or die!
Go forth in a more awful name!
Burn, burn with a diviner flame!
'Tis Antichrist that stirs the fight,
That striketh with the Spaniard's sword:
O yield not up God's blessed light!
O let not go that open Word!
Back Rome her curse disdainful fling!
Lean trustful on thy guardian God—
Scatter those sea-birds foul that darkness bring,
And leave a world by freemen to be trod!
Waits England on her ocean-wall
That wonder of the seas to greet;
On shore she burns heroical
Those conquerors of a world to meet.
O Winds! the foe ye may not smite;
Waves! ye may do the foe no wrong;
But England's arm is great in might;
But England's sword is keen and strong.
Set thy huge marvel, vaunting Spain,
Against these nurselings of the main;
Or bear thy war-dogs safely o'er the flood,
And try the island mastiffs' undegenerate brood!
Around her guardian ocean swelleth;
On sea, on shore her arm excelleth;
Above her Heavenly Helper dwelleth.
That wonder of the seas to greet;
On shore she burns heroical
Those conquerors of a world to meet.
148
Waves! ye may do the foe no wrong;
But England's arm is great in might;
But England's sword is keen and strong.
Set thy huge marvel, vaunting Spain,
Against these nurselings of the main;
Or bear thy war-dogs safely o'er the flood,
And try the island mastiffs' undegenerate brood!
Around her guardian ocean swelleth;
On sea, on shore her arm excelleth;
Above her Heavenly Helper dwelleth.
Behold the foemen on thy ocean-wall;
On, England, thine uplifted stroke let fall!
O English Sea-kings, keep your awful fame!
Howard, new-hallow thine illustrious name!
Make England's ear for aye in love with Effingham!
O ocean-roaming, world-engirdling Drake,
O bold the Spaniard to defy,
Beneath the strange stars of that southern sky,
O strong the foe to overwhelm
In his well-guarded, golden realm,
At home thy fill of glory take!
Stint not thy strokes the sacred white cliffs nigh!
Up, freemen born of fathers free,
These fetter-bearers fitly entertain!
On, fearless nurselings of the sea,
Nor softly smite this monster of the main!
The Invincible Armada sweepeth by;
Wait on the towerëd pageant duteously!
The proud procession terribly attend,
Its splendour spoil, its stately order rend!
Look, England, how thy heroes of the main
Against the foe their fiery coursers spur!
How thine unwieldy chargers, vaunting Spain,
Sink 'neath the shock, or quake amidst the stir!
Ah! smitten deep, ah! shaken sore,
The Armada sweeps along no more,
But creepeth sad those English waters o'er.
Awhile the rent procession stays,
Awhile the fluttered pomp delays;
On the calm waters, well-nigh spent,
Shivers the halting armament.
Why burneth bright that midnight Heaven?
Why flameth wide that midnight sea?
Why reel those ships asunder driven?
What goadeth them so horribly?
Lo! England's fire-steeds drive along;
They leap the startled foe among;
Their burning manes they toss and wreathe;
Their blasting breath around they breathe;
They hurl about the fiery doom;
They touch, they kindle, they consume!
Back, bruisëd, moaning monster of the main,
Nor wait another stroke from England's might!
Away in shameful haste and vain,
Away in weary, woeful flight!
Away in long, unending agony
Around that scornful Isle, o'er that dread Northern Sea!
On, England, thine uplifted stroke let fall!
O English Sea-kings, keep your awful fame!
Howard, new-hallow thine illustrious name!
Make England's ear for aye in love with Effingham!
O ocean-roaming, world-engirdling Drake,
O bold the Spaniard to defy,
Beneath the strange stars of that southern sky,
149
In his well-guarded, golden realm,
At home thy fill of glory take!
Stint not thy strokes the sacred white cliffs nigh!
Up, freemen born of fathers free,
These fetter-bearers fitly entertain!
On, fearless nurselings of the sea,
Nor softly smite this monster of the main!
The Invincible Armada sweepeth by;
Wait on the towerëd pageant duteously!
The proud procession terribly attend,
Its splendour spoil, its stately order rend!
Look, England, how thy heroes of the main
Against the foe their fiery coursers spur!
How thine unwieldy chargers, vaunting Spain,
Sink 'neath the shock, or quake amidst the stir!
Ah! smitten deep, ah! shaken sore,
The Armada sweeps along no more,
But creepeth sad those English waters o'er.
150
Awhile the fluttered pomp delays;
On the calm waters, well-nigh spent,
Shivers the halting armament.
Why burneth bright that midnight Heaven?
Why flameth wide that midnight sea?
Why reel those ships asunder driven?
What goadeth them so horribly?
Lo! England's fire-steeds drive along;
They leap the startled foe among;
Their burning manes they toss and wreathe;
Their blasting breath around they breathe;
They hurl about the fiery doom;
They touch, they kindle, they consume!
Back, bruisëd, moaning monster of the main,
Nor wait another stroke from England's might!
Away in shameful haste and vain,
Away in weary, woeful flight!
151
Around that scornful Isle, o'er that dread Northern Sea!
Ha! England! would'st thou follow fast? would'st ride
After the flying foe? Forbear! stand still!
With Heaven the awful work divide!
Leave Heaven thy triumph to fulfil
Uprise in wrath, ye faithful English seas,
In sleepless wrath 'gainst England's enemies!
O stormy winds, for England rage!
O angry waves, for England roar!
More mightily her warfare wage!
More terribly her vengeance pour!
Not in one brief blast your fierce wrath expend!
The flying foe with lash unweary rend,
And on his doleful flight heap horrors to the end!
After the flying foe? Forbear! stand still!
With Heaven the awful work divide!
Leave Heaven thy triumph to fulfil
Uprise in wrath, ye faithful English seas,
In sleepless wrath 'gainst England's enemies!
O stormy winds, for England rage!
O angry waves, for England roar!
More mightily her warfare wage!
More terribly her vengeance pour!
Not in one brief blast your fierce wrath expend!
The flying foe with lash unweary rend,
And on his doleful flight heap horrors to the end!
Shriek on, Armada tossed and torn,
Along that dreary way forlorn!
Each dreadful day glut with rich spoil
The mighty maw of that grim deep!
Bequeath a wreck to every isle—
A fragment leave on every steep!
List how those Northern floods do clap their hands,
And with glad roar thine overthrow proclaim!
Howl forth thyself thine Antichrist's huge shame
In the glad ear of all those Northern lands!
Let frozen Thule witness bear!
Let Norway's rocks thy trappings wear!
On Scotland relics of thy rout bestow—
With Mona leave a witness of thy woe!
Yes, cast thy mangled, quivering limbs beneath
Those columns on Ierne's shore sublime,
And with the ruins of thy glory wreathe
Their majesty unmovëd through all time!
To wondering, wailing Spain restore
Her stricken strength, her blasted bloom;
Bid Philip's sombre soul explore
A deep of more exceeding gloom!
Tell Antichrist how ill hath fared his freight,
What bane hath with his blessing been,
What glory on his foes doth wait,
How feasts the abhorrëd Isle, how smiles the accursëd Queen!
Along that dreary way forlorn!
152
The mighty maw of that grim deep!
Bequeath a wreck to every isle—
A fragment leave on every steep!
List how those Northern floods do clap their hands,
And with glad roar thine overthrow proclaim!
Howl forth thyself thine Antichrist's huge shame
In the glad ear of all those Northern lands!
Let frozen Thule witness bear!
Let Norway's rocks thy trappings wear!
On Scotland relics of thy rout bestow—
With Mona leave a witness of thy woe!
Yes, cast thy mangled, quivering limbs beneath
Those columns on Ierne's shore sublime,
And with the ruins of thy glory wreathe
Their majesty unmovëd through all time!
To wondering, wailing Spain restore
Her stricken strength, her blasted bloom;
153
A deep of more exceeding gloom!
Tell Antichrist how ill hath fared his freight,
What bane hath with his blessing been,
What glory on his foes doth wait,
How feasts the abhorrëd Isle, how smiles the accursëd Queen!
Ring forth sweet solemn mirth, redeemëd Isle!
Let the salvation its full joy impart!
O meekness of thy bright, triumphant smile!
O lowliness of thine uplifted heart!
With bowëd knees thyself confess
But glorious in the Lord's own glory;
Ring forth with gladsome humbleness
The full divineness of the story!
Sing how thy fiery rush He stayed;
Sing how thy sword aside He laid!
Sing how alone He smote for thee,
And with the strength of His stirred sea
Won for Himself and thee the victory!
Send forth thy soul on high
With the majestic maid's upturnëd eye,
And Heavenward offer thy melodious breath,
While glow the lips of thine Elizabeth!
Round thy dilated form more proudly press
The shining folds of Freedom's raiment bright,
Those robes that gleam with a more glorious light
For Spain's vain ruffling of their gorgeousness!
Deep in thy heart more dearly entertain
Those shinings sweet of Truth, more heavenly fair
Now Antichrist hath reached his arm in vain
Her glorious presence from thy soul to tear!
Yes, glow they not with an augmented shine,
Those blest leaves of that open Word Divine
So grandly guarded for these eyes of thine!
O rolling ages! ne'er the joy efface!
O Latter Days! ne'er, ne'er forget the grace!
Still, England, let the peril make
More bright, more blest, thy golden while;
Still sweet let the salvation break
From thy glad lips, high-thronëd Isle!
Yes, wear this splendour of imperial power,
Gleam glorious in these robes of liberty,
With deeper joy in thy diviner dower,
The Truth that made thee great and kept thee free!
Let the salvation its full joy impart!
O meekness of thy bright, triumphant smile!
O lowliness of thine uplifted heart!
With bowëd knees thyself confess
But glorious in the Lord's own glory;
Ring forth with gladsome humbleness
The full divineness of the story!
Sing how thy fiery rush He stayed;
Sing how thy sword aside He laid!
Sing how alone He smote for thee,
And with the strength of His stirred sea
154
Send forth thy soul on high
With the majestic maid's upturnëd eye,
And Heavenward offer thy melodious breath,
While glow the lips of thine Elizabeth!
Round thy dilated form more proudly press
The shining folds of Freedom's raiment bright,
Those robes that gleam with a more glorious light
For Spain's vain ruffling of their gorgeousness!
Deep in thy heart more dearly entertain
Those shinings sweet of Truth, more heavenly fair
Now Antichrist hath reached his arm in vain
Her glorious presence from thy soul to tear!
Yes, glow they not with an augmented shine,
Those blest leaves of that open Word Divine
So grandly guarded for these eyes of thine!
O rolling ages! ne'er the joy efface!
O Latter Days! ne'er, ne'er forget the grace!
155
More bright, more blest, thy golden while;
Still sweet let the salvation break
From thy glad lips, high-thronëd Isle!
Yes, wear this splendour of imperial power,
Gleam glorious in these robes of liberty,
With deeper joy in thy diviner dower,
The Truth that made thee great and kept thee free!
The Marquis of Santa Cruz, whom death removed from the chief command of the Armada just before it set sail, Martin Recalde or Calde the vice-admiral and others, took part in Lepanto' fight. (See list of the Lepanto fleet in vol. ii. p. 422, cl. seq. of Shute's translation of Fongasse's History of Venice, (1612).
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