Читать книгу The Blue Poetry Book - Lang Andrew, May Kendall - Страница 14

Ye Mariners of England!

That guard our native seas;

Whose flag has braved, a thousand years,

The battle and the breeze!

Your glorious standard launch again

To meet another foe!

And sweep through the deep,

While the stormy tempests blow;

While the battle rages loud and long,

And the stormy tempests blow.

The spirits of your fathers

Shall start from every wave! —

For the deck it was their field of fame,

And Ocean was their grave:

Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell,

Your manly hearts shall glow,

As ye sweep through the deep,

While the stormy tempests blow

While the battle rages loud and long,

And the stormy tempests blow.

Britannia needs no bulwark,

No towers along the steep;

Her march is o’er the mountain-waves,

Her home is on the deep.

With thunders from her native oak

She quells the floods below, —

As they roar on the shore,

When the stormy tempests blow;

When the battle rages loud and long,

And the stormy tempests blow.

The meteor flag of England

Shall yet terrific burn;

Till danger’s troubled night depart,

And the star of peace return.

Then, then, ye ocean-warriors!

Our song and feast shall flow

To the fame of your name,

When the storm has ceased to blow;

When the fiery fight is heard no more,

And the storm has ceased to blow.