4

They row'd ner in across the rolling foam,

The cruel crawling foam,

The cruel hungry foam,

To her grave beside the sea:

But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home,

Across the sands o' Dee.

C. Kingsley

XXXVI

THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE

Toll for the brave!

The brave that are no more!

All sunk beneath the wave,

Fast by their native shore!

Eight hundred of the brave,
Whose courage well was tried,
Had made the vessel heel,

And laid her on her side.

A land breeze shook the shrouds,

And she was overset ;

Down went the Royal George,
With all her crew complete.

Toll for the brave!

Brave Kempenfelt is gone;

His last sea-fight is fought,
His work of glory done.

It was not in the battle;

No tempest gave the shock:
She sprang no fatal leak;

She ran upon no rock.

ling-Guest here beat his breast, ard the loud bassoon.

hath paced into the hall:

cose is she;

their heads before her goes

y minstrelsy.

ding-Guest he beat his breast, nnot choose but hear;

spake on that ancient man, nt-eyed Mariner.

w the storm-blast came, and he nnous and strong:

k with his o'er-taking wings, sed us south along.

loping masts and dipping prow, pursued with yell and blow

ads the shadow of his foe, ward bends his head,

p drove fast, loud roared the blast, thward aye we fled.

Low there came both mist and snow, grew wondrous cold:

e, mast-high, came floating by, en as emerald.

hrough the drifts the snowy clifts nd a dismal sheen :

apes of men nor beasts we kene was all between.