And a day less or more At sea or ashore, We die-does it matter when? Sink me the ship, Master Gunner-sink her, split her in twain! Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands of Spain!" And the gunner said "Ay, ay," but the seamen made reply: "We have children, we have wives, And the Lord hath spared our lives. We will make the Spaniards promise, if we yield, to let us go; We shall live to fight again and to strike another blow!" And the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to the foe. And the stately Spanish men to their flagship bore him then, Where they laid him by the mast, old Sir Richard caught at last, And they praised him to his face with their courtly foreign grace; But he rose upon their decks, and he cried: "I have fought for Queen and Faith like a valiant man and true; I have only done my duty as a man is bound to do: And he fell upon their decks, and he died. And they stared at the dead that had been so valiant and true, And had holden the power and glory of Spain so cheap That he dared her with one little ship and his English few; Was he devil or man? He was devil for aught they knew, But they sank his body with honor down into the deep, And they mann'd the Revenge with a swarthier alien crew, And away she sail'd with her loss and long'd for her own; When a wind from the lands they had ruin'd awoke from sleep, And the water began to heave and the weather to moan, And or ever that evening ended a great gale blew, And a wave like the wave that is raised by an earthquake grew, Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts and their flags, And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot-shatter'd navy of Spain, And the little Revenge herself went down by the island crags To be lost evermore in the main. MAGDALENA; OR, THE SPANISH DUEL BY J. F. WALLER Near the city of Sevilla, Years and years ago— Dwelt a lady in a villa Years and years ago;— And her hair was black as night, And her step was light and airy When she spoke, you thought each minute, 'Twas the trilling of a linnet; When she sang, you heard a gush Of full-voiced sweetness like a thrush; Ringing music, sweeter far Than the morning breezes make Through the lime trees when they shake- Pebbles on the foamy shore. How I wooed that maiden fair, And I loved her so, Near the city of Sevilla, Years and years ago. "Twas an autumn eve; the splendor Of the day was gone, And the twilight, soft and tender, Stole so gently on That the eye could scarce discover Like a veil of silver gray, Toned the golden clouds, sun-painted, Till they paled, and paled, and fainted From the face of heaven away. And a dim light rising slowly O'er the welkin spread, Till the blue sky, calm and holy, Seated half within a bower Where the languid evening breeze Shook out odors in a shower From oranges and citron trees, Sang she from a romancero, How a Moorish chieftain bold How they battled for a lady, Fairest of the maids of SpainHow the Christian's lance, so steady, Pierced the Moslem through the brain. Then she ceased-her black eyes moving, "British maids," I said, "are ever Like the swans on yonder river "Wooed not quickly, won not lightly But, when won, forever true; Trial draws the bond more tightly, Time can ne'er the knot undo." "And the men?"—"Ah! dearest lady, When they can and where they may; "Fixed as waves, as breezes steady In a changeful April dayComo brisas, como rios, No se sabe, sabe Dios." "Are they faithful?”—“Ah! quien sabe? Who can answer that they are? While we may we should be happy." Then I took up her guitar, And I sang in sportive strain, As I sang the lady listened, Then my heart reproved the feeling What my heart would hide in vain. |