And the dread Sicilian monster, in his cavern by the shore,
Felt the shadow of their coming, and was blind for evermore.
So lived all those stalwart captains of the loyal Saxon blood,
Grasping morsels of adventure as an eagle grasps his food;
Fought till death for queen and country, hating Antichrist and Spain;
Sacked the rich Castilian cities of the glittering western main;
Hacked and hewed the molten idols of each gray cathedral pile,
And with Carthaginian silver dowered the virgin English isle.
Up and down the proud Antilles still the ringing echoes go:
Ho! a Raleigh! Ho! a Drake!—and, forever, Westward Ho!