Had I the fabled herb <br />That brought to life the dead, <br />Whom would I dare disturb <br />In his eternal bed? <br />Great Grenville would I wake, <br />And with glad tidings make <br />The soul of mighty Drake <br />Heave up a glorying head. <br /> <br />As rose the misty sun, <br />Our men the North Sea scanned, <br />And each rejoicing gun <br />Welcomed a Foe at hand, <br />And thundering its delight, <br />Opened its mouth outright, <br />And bit them in the Bight, <br />The Bight of Helgoland. <br /> <br />With Captains who could each <br />Do aught but yield or flee; <br />With guns that spake the speech <br />Shall keep this Kingdom free; <br />We hammered to their doom <br />Four Giants mid the gloom, <br />And one to a fiercer tomb <br />Sent blazing down the sea. <br /> <br />Sleep on, O Drake, sleep well, <br />In days not wholly dire! <br />Grenville, whom nought could quell, <br />Unquenched is still thy fire. <br />And thou that hadst no peer, <br />Nelson! thou need'st not fear: <br />Thy sons and heirs are here, <br />Nor shall they shame their sire.<br /><br />William Watson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-battle-of-the-bight/
