Dost hear the bells of my sweet land,
Dost hear the kine, dost hear the merry birds?
No voice, ’tis true, no spoken words,
No tongue that thou may’st understand—
Yet is it land, ho! land.
It’s clad in purple mist, my land,
In regal robe it is apparelléd,
A crown is set upon its head,
And on its breast a golden band—
Land, ho! land.
Dost wonder that I long for land?
My land is not a land as others are—
Upon its crest there beams a star,
And lilies grow upon the strand—
Land, ho! land.
Give me the helm! there is the land!
Ha! lusty mariners, she takes the breeze!
And what my spirit sees it sees—
Leap, bark, as leaps the thunderbrand—
Land, ho! land.
Thomas Edward Brown.
TREVALDWYN
LXXXVIII
THE GEORGE OF LOOE
O, ’twas merry down to Looe when the news was carried through
That the George would put to sea all with the morning tide;
And all her jolly crew hurrah’d till they were blue
When the captain said, ‘My lads, we’ll tan the Frenchman’s hide!’