Suddenly then the news came flying,
"English mariners meet the Dutch,
Tars interned, with the neutrals vieing,
Beaten at Gröningen." Wild hands clutch
At the evening sheets
And the swift pulse beats;
Is the fame of Hawke and Frobisher dying?
The heart of the town is stirred by the Nelson touch.
Six—five. It's true. And the tears bedizen
The smoke-stained cheeks, and there comes a scream,