Sir Henry Newbolt

(from the French of Wenceslas,
Duke of Brabant and Luxembourg, who died in 1384
)Long ago to thee I
Body, soul, and all I have---  Nothing in the world I keep:

"When Lieutenant Murray fell, the only words he spoke were,'Forward,
Grenadiers
'"---Press Telegram
Here they halted, here once more  Hand from hand was rent;

He leap to arms unbidden,
Unneeded, over-bold;
His face by earth is hidden,
His heart in earth is cold

"Hark ye, hark to the winding horn;
Sluggards, awake, and front the morn
Hark ye, hark to the winding horn;  The sun's on meadow and mill
Follow me, hearts that love the chase;

(Old French)Memories long in music sleeping, No more sleeping, No more dumb;
Delicate phantoms softly creeping Softly back from the old-world come
Faintest odours around them straying, Suddenly straying In chambers dim;
Whispering s...

His beauty bore no token, No sign our gladness shook;
With tender strength unbroken The hand of Life he took:
But the summer flowers were falling, Falling and fading away,
And mother birds were calling, Crying and calling For their ...

(A Lady of Tender Age)Ladies, where were your bright eyes glancing, Where were they glancing yester-night
Saw ye Imogen dancing, dancing, Imogen dancing all in white
Laughed she not with a pure delight, Laughed she not with a joy serene,...

(from the French of Wenceslas,
Duke of Brabant and Luxembourg, who died in 1384
)I cannot tell, of twain beneath this bond,
Which one in grief the other goes beyond,---Narcissus, who to end the pain he

A thousand years by sea and land Our race hath served the island kings,
But not by custom's dull command To-day with song her Empire rings:
Not all the glories of her birth, Her armed renown and ancient throne,
Could make her less t...

When I thy lover first  Shook out my canvas
And like a pirate burst  Into that dreaming sea,
The land knew no such thirst  As then tormented me
Now when at eve returned  I near that shore divine,

Dreary lay the long road, dreary lay the town,
Lights out and never a glint o' moon:
Weary lay the stragglers, half a thousand down,
Sad sighed the weary big Dragoon

(After Martial)To-day, my friend is seventy-five; He tells his tale with no regret; His brave old eyes are steadfast yet,
His heart the
lightest heart alive
He sees behind him green and wide The pathway of his pilgrim years; He sees...

She's the daughter of the breeze,
She's the darling of the seas,  And we call her, if you please, the bright
Medu--sa_;
From beneath her bosom

He gave us all a good-bye cheerily  At the first dawn of day;
We dropped him down the side full drearily  When the light died away
It's a dead dark watch that he's a-keeping there,
And a long, long night that lags a-creeping there,

The Squire sat propped in a pillowed chair,
His eyes were alive and clear of care,
But well he knew that the hour was
To bid good-bye to his ancient home

After long labouring in the windy ways, On smooth and shining tides Swiftly the great ship glides, Her storms forgot, her weary watches past;
Northward she glides, and through the enchanted haze Faint on the verge her far hope dawns at last