victory - Популярные cтихи, рассказы и фанфики

Now does Spains Fleet her spatious wings unfold,
Leaves the new World and hastens for the old:
But though the wind was fair, the slowly
Frayted with acted Guilt, and Guilt to come:

Sailors there are of the gentlest breed,  Yet strong, like every goodly thing;
The discipline of arms refines,  And the wave gives tempering
The damasked blade its beam can fling;
It lends the last grave grace: