TRIREMES of the Roman, cruising down to Antioch,
Longships of the Northmen, galleons of Spain,
Tall, gleaming caravels, swinging in the tideway,
Never shall the sunlight gild their sails again.
Never shall those white sails, lifting on the sea-line,
Swoop like a swallow across the blinding blue
Caracque and caravel, lying 'neath the waters,
Wait till the bugles shall call the last review.
There in the darkness lie friend and foe together,
Drake's English pinnaces, the great Armada's host;
Quiet they lie in the silence of the sea-depths,
Waiting the call that shall sound from coast to coast.
War-ship and merchantmen, lying in the slime there,
Galleys of the Algerine, and traders of Almayne,
Hoys of the Dutchman, and haughty ships of Venice,
Never shall the sunlight gild their sails again.
