When that great fleet invincible against her bore
in vain The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts of
Spain.
It was about the lovely close of a warm summer day, There came a gallant merchant-ship full sail to
Plymouth Bay; Her crew hath seen Castile's black fleet, beyond
Aurigny's isle, At earliest twilight, on the waves lie heaving many
a mile. At sunrise she escaped their van, by God's especial
grace; And the tall Pinta, till the noon, had held her close
in chase. Forthwith a guard at every gun was placed along
the wall; The beacon blazed upon the roof of Edgecumbe's
lofty hall; Many a light fishing-bark put out to pry along the
coast, And with loose rein and bloody spur rode inland
many a post. With his white hair unbonneted, the stout old sheriff
comes; Behind him march the halberdiers; before him
sound the drums; His yeomen round the market cross make clear an
ample space; For there behoves him to set up the standard of
Her Grace.
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