And they stared at the dead that had been so valiant and true,105 And had holden the power and glory of Spain so cheap That he dared her with one little ship and his English few; Was he devil or man? He was devil for aught they knew, But they sank his body with honour down in the deep, And they mann'd the Revenge with a swarthy alien crew,110 And away she sail'd with her loss and long'd for her own; When a wind from the lands they had ruin'd awoke from sleep, And the water began to heave and the weather to moan, And or ever that evening ended a great gale blew, And a wave like the wave that is raised by an earthquake grew,115 Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts and their flags, And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot-shatter'd navy of Spain, And the little Revenge herself went down by the island crags To be lost evermore in the main.
[ROBERT BROWNING]
"HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS
FROM GHENT TO AIX."
[16 − −]
I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; "Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew; "Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through; Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,5 And into the midnight we galloped abreast.
Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place; I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight, Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique[234] right,10 Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit, Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.
'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near Lokeren,[235] the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear; At Boom,[236] a great yellow star came out to see;15 At Düffeld,[237] 'twas morning as plain as could be; And from Mecheln[238] church-steeple we heard the half-chime, So Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time!"
At Aershot,[239] up leaped of a sudden the sun, And against him the cattle stood black every one,20 To stare through the mist at us galloping past, And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last, With resolute shoulders, each butting away The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray: