Hew Morrison Collection > Minor poems, and translations, in verse

THE NORE.
THE NORE,
A FRAGMENT.
A BURNING sun shot through a cloudless sky,
Pouring refulgence on a tranquil tide ;
On slumb'ring sails the lively pennon died,
And Beauty slept on Ocean's majesty.
Around an aged mariner we stood,
List'ning to tales of carnage on the flood —
Of battles, and the Nore. In truth, we rested
Where counselled once, for freedom and for fame.
England's sea- warriors, when high the flame
They reared of Liberty ; — ^in days they breasted
The yielding billows of remoter seas.
Braving alike the "battle and the breeze,"
To tell of England, the supreme defence,
And speak her vengeful ire in thundered eloquence !
All silent now, and speckless : no commotion
Breaks o'er the stillness of the placid tide —
The fairest sea that margins the dark ocean —
A pleasant path, to joyful hours allied.