Above, and there did he abide alone.

"To arms! to arms! to honourable arms,

My mates, I will say to you as Cæsar

Said to his, 'striving with great Neptune's hills; "You bear," quoth he

"Cæsar and Cæsar's fortune in your ships."

Like Vulcan thrown from heaven and halting

With the fall, we'll throw them forth; thus we will
Pull these Spaniards down who come this Island
To subdue to their king, filling our seas

With calvars, magars, stately argosies
And hulks of burden great,

And send them home rebated from our coast,

Ballass'd with little wealth and mann'd with dead.'

"His wild, fantastic humours pleased me not, And to still my beating mind, I gan say, 'Sir, he that sits at fortune's feet alow Shall not taste a further woe;

But those that prank on top of fortune's ball
Must fear a change, and fearing catch a fall.'
"Fair sir,' Palmer fearlessly answered me,

'Cowardice is so foul a weed, that

Were spiteful fate or luckless destiny

To let my life out, and were my spirit

To vanish into air by lawless will

Of Spanish weapons, my love of honour,

Rest assured, would with pleasance make me laugh. And thanks to heaven give, that I did help

The proud Castilian's shame to repay.

And therefore would I welcome the sour cup

That would deck with sweetest flowers my tomb.

But look! By Hercules, our leaders lead

And we keep whole; we are but women's men.
Friends, away! drive or take the approaching ship,
Or all disgrace upon our heads will fall.

Look at the Swiftsure there! those bragging jacks
Will call us cowards. We'll play with them
The first ship for a thousand ducats stake.'

"I stand and view the issue of the fight.
'We shall ne'er win,' I thought, for in the fray
Our ventures failed; not one did redeem

The noble swelling spirits that do hold

Their honours cheap. So doubtful thoughts I had,
Like to the wives Dardinian, they who,
With bleared visages, came forth to view
The virgin tribute that was yearly paid
By howling Troy to the great sea-monster.
Rash embrac'd despair and shuddering fear
Assails my heart; too eagerly my eyes
Fixing to the hurtful attacks, my thoughts
Danced to the tune of gunballs frisking,
And, in a word, neglecting to think that
'The heavens declare the glory of God,
And the firmament showeth His handiwork,'
I fell into despair.

But return we (leaving these thoughts divine,)

Once again to the merry, dancing time.

"The sun begins to drop and the pale moon

From the surrounding heaven ethereal

Leaps immense, set round with bright little stars
That fair Venus honoured;

For this great fiery star again supports

The moon, and made her vivid way through worlds That spotted and crossed the heavens, though

They from smallness were almost invisible.

"Good-night, good-night, good-night,' great Palmer

cried

Unto his foes, 'I'll keep you company.

Follow his torch!' So all night our helmsman
Steers his course like faithful dog his master following.

"The merry morning comes apace, and Phoebus

throws

His beams abroad, though he in clouds is clos'd,

Still glancing by them till he find oppos'd

A loose and rorid vapour, that is fit
T'event his searching beams, and useth it
To form a tender, twenty-coloured eye,

Cast in a circle round about the sky.
Mild was the wind, calm'd seem'd the sea,

The golden eye of day smiled in delight,

Moistened his fiery beams, yet quenched them not,
On silent waves that sparkled with his light.
The noble fleet so nigh our vessels lay,

That the tall ships appeared against the sky
Made all of ebon and white ivory;

The sails of gold; of silk, the tackle; all
Of richest substance that on earth might be,
So pure and shiny on the silver flood

Through every channel running; one might see
Where hanging oars that troubled not the seas,
Low dipping in the silver waves,

Did gem themselves with lines of crystal beads,
Fair nature's ever-moving, watery pearls.
Thereto the heavens, always jovial,

Looked on them, lovely still in steadfast state.

If life-resembling pencil it might paint,

Or portrayed it might be by living art!
But living art may not least part express,
Nor were it Zeuxis nor Parrhasius;

Ne poet's wit, that passeth painter far,
So hard a workmanship adventure dare,

For fear, through want of words, beauty to mar.
But let that same delicious poet lend

A little leave unto a rustic muse,

To whom no share in arms and chivalry
They do impart, ne maken memory
Of their brave feats and prowess martial.

"Upon the deck of the Ark Royal that day,
The whiles the crew march forth in trim array
And all his officers do stand thereby,
The Lord High Admiral, in pomp of state,
Turning unto his kinsmen thus bespake:

"Ye warlike pair, whose valorous great might
So goodly well ye show'd in late assays,
Your mates shall witness of your worthiness,
And fame shall register your princely deeds,
While poet's rhyme shall memorize your names,
Which with your virtues you embellish more.
Vouchsafe to take from me this token meet,
That ye have knit yourselves with bravest knights,
Defenders of the gracious sovereign,

As dear to England and true English hearts

As Pompey to the citizens of Rome;

As merciful as Cæsar in his might;
As mighty as the Macedonian king
Or Trojan Hector, terror to the Greeks.
Now will I gratify your former good,
And grace your calling with a greater sway.'

"So will we, with our powers and our lives,

Endeavor to preserve and prosper it!'

"Receive your swords and knighthood's high
degree.

Advance, brave Frobisher, and kneel thou down.
To thee this humble present I prepare,

To which thou nobly e'er inclined are.
Thou brave ensample of long past days,
In which true honour thou mayst fashion'd see;
To like desire of honour may ye raise
And fill your mind with magnanimity.
Receive it, therefore, e'en as it was meant—
For honour of thy name. Rise now, more great.
Arise, Sir Martin, and thy good sword take.

666 'And, lastly, there is due from me, he said,
Turning towards the side where Hawkins stood,
'Unto a fourth, who likewise may be ranked
Amongst the greatest of the heroes, who
To death or danger sacrificed themselves

For their fair Queen and for their country's good.
Thine is a courage of a stouter web than most;
And rarely happeneth it, honour doth grace

Such robust nature, well attempered mind

And heart. Habit of virtue ever hast thou had

And natural inclination to the good;

Thou'rt well advanced towards life's ripest years.
And yet in all affairs both bold and free.
Thy liberal hand, badge of nobility,

Thy sovereign's honour to uphold and shield,
Thou vow'st to task, in witness of thy heart,
Till
age shake off war's rough habiliments.
This badge of honour and magnificence,