88 YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND. There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey, To dwell a weeping hermit there! COLLINS. [Written in the year 1746.] De Mariners of England. E mariners of England, That guard our native seas; Whose flag has braved a thousand years The battle and the breeze, Your glorious standard launch again To match another foe! And sweep through the deep, The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave! For the deck it was their field of fame, Robin Hood. O! those days are gone away, And their minutes buried all Of the forest's whispering fleeces, No, the bugle sounds no more, On the fairest time in June ROBIN HOOD. For he left the merry tale Gone the merry morris din ; weep and he would craze, He would swear, for all his oaks, Have rotted on the briny seas: So it is; yet let us sing Honour to the woods unshorn! Honour to the archer keen! Though their days have hurried by, KEATS. 91 |