Songs of the Sea & Sailors' Chanteys: An Anthology

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Robert Frothingham
Houghton Mifflin, 1924 - 288 Seiten

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Seite 11 - The armaments which thunder-strike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake And monarchs tremble in their capitals, The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war ; These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.
Seite 191 - 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 shotshatter'd navy of Spain, And the little Revenge herself...
Seite 53 - Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell : Hark! now I hear them, — ding-dong, bell.
Seite 16 - Fifteen men on the dead man's chest — Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!
Seite 10 - His steps are not upon thy paths — thy fields Are not a spoil for him — thou dost arise And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields For earth's destruction thou dost all despise, Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray, And howling, to his Gods, where haply lies His petty hope in some near port or bay, And dashest him again to earth — there let him lay.
Seite 1 - I will go back to the great sweet mother, Mother and lover of men, the sea. I will go down to her, I and none other, Close with her, kiss her and mix her with me...
Seite 185 - Howard past away with five ships of war that day, Till he melted like a cloud in the silent summer heaven ; But Sir Richard bore in hand all his sick men from the land...
Seite 148 - Here's the English at our heels; would you have them take in tow All that's left us of the fleet, linked together stern and bow, For a prize to Plymouth Sound? Better run the ships aground!
Seite 151 - Out burst all with one accord, " This is Paradise for Hell ! Let France, let France's King Thank the man that did the thing ! " What a shout, and all one word, "HerveRiel!
Seite 187 - And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea, But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty-three.

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