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Thanks for permission to include poems and extracts are due to the following:
Mr. Henry Newbolt for Hawke, from 'The Island Race', published by Elkin Mathews.
The Houghton Mifflin Co. for O. W. Holmes's A Ballad of the Boston Tea Party.
Mr. Thomas Hardy for extracts from The Dynasts and for Embarcation.
The Executors of the late J. K. Ingram for The Memory of the Dead, from 'Sonnets and other Poems', published by Messrs. A. & C. Black.
Messrs. Bradbury, Agnew & Co. for Shirley Brooks's Havelock. Mr. A. C. Benson for Ode on the Right Hon. William Ewart Gladstone (permission confirmed by Mr. John Lane).
Messrs. Longmans, Green & Co. for Mr. Andrew Lang's The White Pacha and Advance, Australia, from 'Grass of Parnassus'.
Mr. Rudyard Kipling and Messrs. Methuen & Co. for Recessional, from 'The Five Nations'.
Mr. T. Watts-Dunton for England Stands Alone.
Mr. Owen Seaman and Messrs. Bradbury, Agnew & Co. for Queen Victoria.
Mr. William Watson for an extract from Sable and Purple (permission confirmed by Mr. Eveleigh Nash).
Mr. T. Watts-Dunton for an extract from Swinburne's The Armada.
SIR NICHOLAS AT MARSTON MOOR
Prince Rupert's army forced Scots and Parliamentarians to raise the siege of York. During the retirement the main body of the allied forces was broken, but Cromwell on the left wing stood firm, and coming to the support of the rest restored the fortune of the day, and after a desperate struggle routed and pursued Rupert's army to within three miles of York. This victory secured for the Parliament practically the whole of the North of England.
[See the Plan in Gardiner's Historical Atlas.]
To horse! to horse! Sir Nicholas, the clarion's note is high!
To horse! to horse! Sir Nicholas, the big drum makes reply!
Ere this hath Lucas marched, with his gallant cavaliers,
And the bray of Rupert's trumpets grows fainter in our ears.
To horse! to horse! Sir Nicholas! White Guy is
at the door,
And the raven whets his beak o'er the field of Marston Moor.
Up rose the Lady Alice from her brief and broken
And she brought a silken banner down the narrow
Oh! many were the tears that those radiant eyes had shed,
As she traced the bright word 'Glory' in the gay
and glancing thread;
And mournful was the smile which o'er those lovely
As she said: 'It is your lady's gift; unfurl it in the van!'
'It shall flutter, noble wench, where the best and boldest ride
Midst the steel-clad files of Skippon, the black dragoons of Pride;
The recreant heart of Fairfax shall feel a sicklier
And the rebel lips of Oliver give out a louder
When they see my lady's gewgaw flaunt bravely on their wing,
And hear her loyal soldier's shout, "For God and for the King."'
The ranks are broken, along the royal
They fly, the braggarts of the Court! the bullies of the Rhine!
Stout Langley's cheer is heard no more, and Astley's helm is down,
And Rupert sheathes his rapier, with a curse and with a frown,
And cold Newcastle mutters, as he follows in their flight,
'The German boar had better far have supped in York to-night.'
The knight is left alone, his steel-cap cleft in twain, His good buff jerkin crimsoned o'er with many a
Yet still he waves his banner, and cries amid the rout,
For Church and King, fair gentlemen! spur on, and fight it out!
And now he wards a Roundhead's pike, and now he hums a stave,
And now he quotes a stage-play, and now he fells a knave.
God aid thee now, Sir Nicholas! thou hast no thought of fear;
God aid thee now, Sir Nicholas! but fearful odds are here!
The rebels hem thee in, and at every cut and thrust, 'Down, down,' they cry, 'with Belial! down with him to the dust!'
'I would,' quoth grim old Oliver, 'that Belial's trusty sword
This day were doing battle for the Saints and for the Lord!'
The Lady Alice sits with her maidens in her bower, The grey-haired warder watches from the Castle's topmost tower;
'What news? what news, old Hubert?'-'The battle's lost and won:
The royal troops are melting like mists before the
And a wounded man approaches;-I'm blind and cannot see,
Or sure I am that sturdy step, my master's step should be!'
'I've brought thee back thy banner, wench, from as rude and red a fray
As e'er was proof of soldier's thew, or theme for minstrel's lay!