Poems: New and Old (Newbolt)/Laudabunt Alii

by Henry Newbolt

Laudabunt Alii

(After Horace)

 

Let others praise, as fancy wills,Berlin beneath her trees,Or Rome upon her seven hills,Or Venice by her seas;Stamboul by double tides embraced,Or green Damascus in the waste.

For me there's nought I would not leaveFor the good Devon land,Whose orchards down the echoing cleeveBedewed with spray-drift stand,And hardly bear the red fruit upThat shall be next year's cider-cup.

You too, my friend, may wisely markHow clear skies follow rain,And lingering in your own green parkOr drilled on Laffan's Plain,Forget not with the festal bowlTo soothe at times your weary soul.

When Drake must bid to Plymouth HoeGood-bye for many a day,And some were sad that feared to go,And some that dared not stay,Be sure he bade them broach the bestAnd raised his tankard with the rest.

"Drake's luck to all that sail with DrakeFor promised lands of gold!Brave lads, whatever storms may break,We've weathered worse of old!To-night the loving-cup we'll drain,To-morrow for the Spanish Main!"