Ballads of the Fleet and Other Poems A New Edition With several Additional Pieces: By Rennell Rodd |
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GREENAWAY.
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 | Ballads of the Fleet and Other Poems |  |
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GREENAWAY.
The mother looked out from the window-bay, looked over the woods to the sea,
And, “Where are those four bonny boys of mine?” and “Where are they gone?” said she.
And, “Where are those four bonny boys of mine?” and “Where are they gone?” said she.
The gardener's lad with the wave-tanned face looked up from the blush-rose bed,
“They have taken the boat and dropped on the ebb at dawn of the day,” he said.
“They have taken the boat and dropped on the ebb at dawn of the day,” he said.
The mother turned from the window-bay, she was fair as three-months' bride,
“Ah well-a-day for my four wild boys and their lust of the sea,” she sighed.
“Ah well-a-day for my four wild boys and their lust of the sea,” she sighed.
But deeper yet had the mother sighed, could she know what the years would bring,
The gift of the sea, and the doom of the sea, and the faith of a craven king.
The gift of the sea, and the doom of the sea, and the faith of a craven king.
A stone's throw under the windows, by dale and covert and down,
The Dart winds home from its moorland source to the roads and the haven town;
The Dart winds home from its moorland source to the roads and the haven town;
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And thither it was in an old sea-boat from their home at Greenaway
The eager sons of the manor-house would fare for their holiday;
The eager sons of the manor-house would fare for their holiday;
There were Humphry and Adrien Gilbert, with their friend from over the moor,
The yeoman's son John Davies, to tug at the heavy oar,
The yeoman's son John Davies, to tug at the heavy oar,
And the boy that held the tiller, and the younger one at his side,
Were the lads of Walter Raleigh and the same fair mother's pride.
Were the lads of Walter Raleigh and the same fair mother's pride.
What deeds of wild adventure they have dared on that Devon stream
When the fabled West was an easy quest to a boy's light-hearted dream.
When the fabled West was an easy quest to a boy's light-hearted dream.
When the river-reach was their tropic sea, and the coast was the Spanish Main,
And the blistered wreck on the ebb-tide shoal was a great galleass of Spain.
And the blistered wreck on the ebb-tide shoal was a great galleass of Spain.
And so they would come to the haven, where, moored to the laden quays,
Were the ships at rest with their canvas furled from a hundred marvellous seas;
Were the ships at rest with their canvas furled from a hundred marvellous seas;
The lofty poops and the painted hulls of the beautiful ships of old,
The carven prows and the open ports with their guns that shone like gold;
The carven prows and the open ports with their guns that shone like gold;
For the boys that were born and cradled where the breeze of the ocean blows,
They loved those ships with the passion that only the sea child knows.
They loved those ships with the passion that only the sea child knows.
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And the Channel rovers knew them, the men of the western shire,
And told them tales of the ocean life and the world of a boy's desire;
And told them tales of the ocean life and the world of a boy's desire;
There was one that had sailed with Strangways, another with red Tremayne;
They could tell of the Holy Office and the rule of the monk in Spain;
They could tell of the Holy Office and the rule of the monk in Spain;
Of the corsair folk in the eastern isles with the long brass guns on deck,
Of the north sea spray, of a gale in the bay, of a fight, of a run, of a wreck;
Of the north sea spray, of a gale in the bay, of a fight, of a run, of a wreck;
Of the fur-clad folk and the frost-bound shores, where the day and night are one,
And the drifting ice-floes sparkle to the gleam of the midnight sun;
And the drifting ice-floes sparkle to the gleam of the midnight sun;
But the tale that held them longest was the tale of the isles that lie
Far over the great Atlantic and the land of the sunset sky;
Far over the great Atlantic and the land of the sunset sky;
Where veiled in rumour and fable, withdrawn as a virgin bride,
The world to be wooed and conquered was a quest that was still untried.
The world to be wooed and conquered was a quest that was still untried.
Then the lips would part and the eager eyes go westward over the sea,
“A little while, but a little while, and the time will come for me.”
“A little while, but a little while, and the time will come for me.”
Now back—for the tide sets inland, and the mother frets in the hall,
“We have far to go ere the sun be low—good hap to ye, masters all!”
“We have far to go ere the sun be low—good hap to ye, masters all!”
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“God speed to ye, gentle worships—good hap to ye, honest John,
Good luck to you, young Squire Raleigh, and keep your eye on the Don!”
Good luck to you, young Squire Raleigh, and keep your eye on the Don!”
The mother looked out as the westering sun went under the steep moorside,
And “Where are those four bonny boys of mine? they are long from their home,” she sighed.
And “Where are those four bonny boys of mine? they are long from their home,” she sighed.
But deeper yet had the mother sighed, could she know what the end would be,
The golden dream of the after years and the doom that came from the sea.
The golden dream of the after years and the doom that came from the sea.
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