Ballads of the Fleet and Other Poems A New Edition With several Additional Pieces: By Rennell Rodd |
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THE DUKE HAS FRIENDS
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 | Ballads of the Fleet and Other Poems |  |
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THE DUKE HAS FRIENDS
My answer is—fill up your glass!—With you, Sir John, the Port!
They may call him traitor if they dare, and hound him from the Court!
They may call him traitor if they dare, and hound him from the Court!
There's many a courtier I could name has had his fingers black
With dipping after dirtier coin in some one else's sack.
With dipping after dirtier coin in some one else's sack.
But you and I may only know we've drawn for England's right
Behind the greatest captain that ever rode to fight!
Behind the greatest captain that ever rode to fight!
Have you forgotten Eckerslau, when the balls were thick as rain,
And we thought the word would never come to take the field again:
And we thought the word would never come to take the field again:
When the battle hung in balance, and we waited for his sign:
Do you remember what you felt as he cantered down the line?
Do you remember what you felt as he cantered down the line?
His breast was all one blaze of stars, his wrists were ruffed with lace,
The wind blew back his scented curls and showed his gallant face;
The wind blew back his scented curls and showed his gallant face;
The bullets snarled like angry wasps, the cannon thundered loud,
As he drew his rein before our ranks, and raised his hat and bowed;
As he drew his rein before our ranks, and raised his hat and bowed;
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‘With your permission, gentlemen of the English cavalry,
Myself will lead where honour calls—sound trumpet, charge!’ said he.
Myself will lead where honour calls—sound trumpet, charge!’ said he.
And calm as in the hunting-field he wheeled his chestnut round,
And all the line behind him leapt forward with a bound.
And all the line behind him leapt forward with a bound.
Then, when the fight was over, and Blenheim lost and won,
And England's greatest day went down in triumph with the sun,
And England's greatest day went down in triumph with the sun,
I see him as he bowed once more in answer to our cheers,
That splendid English gentleman, that prince of cavaliers!
That splendid English gentleman, that prince of cavaliers!
The town may talk its head off—I care not who they tell,
The Duke! his health in bumpers, and the Court may go to Hell!
The Duke! his health in bumpers, and the Court may go to Hell!
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