10.04.2012, 21:40
Sir George Rooke
E'en as in trance the flame-girt Valkyr lay
Waiting her hero of the glittering sword,
So slept the honour that thy heart adored
Within the flaming hold of Vigo Bay.
Full in thy course the great boom barred the way,
About thee right and left the hell-fire poured,
But thou mad'st answer till the heavens roared,
And all Spain's might had foundered in the fray.
Thine was the joy of onslaught sure and swift,
Stark lay the Rock that holds the midland sea,
Bristling and vast, with teror in her frown,
But like the lightning from the thunder's rift
Thine onset fell, and England holds of thee
The fairest gem in all her wondrous crown.
E'en as in trance the flame-girt Valkyr lay
Waiting her hero of the glittering sword,
So slept the honour that thy heart adored
Within the flaming hold of Vigo Bay.
Full in thy course the great boom barred the way,
About thee right and left the hell-fire poured,
But thou mad'st answer till the heavens roared,
And all Spain's might had foundered in the fray.
Thine was the joy of onslaught sure and swift,
Stark lay the Rock that holds the midland sea,
Bristling and vast, with teror in her frown,
But like the lightning from the thunder's rift
Thine onset fell, and England holds of thee
The fairest gem in all her wondrous crown.