Nelson & His World

Today is National Poetry Day and I felt I could not let in pass without posting a poem with a nautical flavour.

Here is a poem by my friend Jane, who first introduced me to Nelson. It was her memorable Trafalgar Dinner in 2005 that sparked off my enthusiasm. Nearly seventy years ago, she had to entertain a Dartmouth cadet to tea. Small talk was difficult. 'Shall I tell you about Nelson and Trafalgar?' the cadet asked. ' Yes', she replied, and he held her spellbound as he related the story of the battle. She has been a Nelson devotee ever since.

It was with Jane that I first visited HMS Victory, and this is a poem she wrote afterwards, as she was ironing a sheet, imagining it is the sail of Victory, and recalling the details of our visit to the famous ship.


IRONING PORTSMOUTH

When my iron has reached spit heat
I guide the tip over the fabric of
creased hours and crumpled nights.
Hisses on white canvas, a vast sail
spread on the high loft's floor,
sliding, skirting dark shot holes,
steams across one ragged tear,
presses down to seal and cauterise.

Guns unshotted, yards bare, Victory leans
against the quay. My cool iron glides into the
empty cabin, across his writing desk,
a black leather chair, then hesitates before
a feathered pen, a twist of hair.

So I lay out the fabirc of those days and see
my iron has smoothed all creases from the
white shroud of pain and blood and death.
I hold it to my cheek and I catch a whiff of tar,
of sheets and halyards, love, joy, triumph, poetry,
a sail, a shining harbour, a lock of hair: and I yearn for
Portsmouth and the sight of Victory's tall masts
propping a blue untroubled sky.

National Poetry Day again so I thought a bit of rousing rum-ti-tum from Sir Henry Newbolt might be fitting. If anyone can think of a better sea poem, please post!

Admirals All

Effingham, Grenville, Raleigh, Drake,
Here's to the bold and free!
Benbow, Collingwood, Byron, Blake,
Hail to the Kings of the Sea!
Admirals all, for England's sake,
Honour be yours and fame!
And honour, as long as waves shall break,
To Nelson's peerless name!

Essex was fretting in Cadiz Bay
With the galleons fair in sight;
Howard at last must give him his way,
And the word was passed to fight.
Never was schoolboy gayer than he,
Since holidays first began:
He tossed his bonnet to wind and sea,
And under the guns he ran.

Drake nor devil nor Spaniard feared,
Their cities he put to the sack;
He singed his Catholic Majesty's beard,
And harried his ships to wrack.
He was playing at Plymouth a rubber of bowls
When the great Armada came;
But he said, "They must wait their turn, good souls,"
And he stooped, and finished the game.

Fifteen sail were the Dutchmen bold,
Duncan he had but two;
But he anchored them fast where the Texel shoaled
And his colours aloft he flew.
"I've taken the depth to a fathom," he cried,
"And I'll sink with a right good will,
For I know when we're all of us under the tide,
My flag will be fluttering still."

Splinters were flying above, below,
When Nelson sailed the Sound:
"Mark you, I wouldn't be elsewhere now,"
Said he, "for a thousand pound!"
The Admiral's signal bade him fly,
But he wickedly wagged his head,
He clapped the glass to his sightless eye
And "I'm damned if I see it," he said.

Admirals all, they said their say
(The echoes are ringing still),
Admirals all, they went their way
To the haven under the hill.

But they left us a kingdom none can take,
The realm of the circling sea,
To be ruled by the rightful sons of Blake
And the Rodneys yet to be.

_Admirals all, for England's sake,
Honour be yours and fame!
And honour, as long as waves shall break,
To Nelson's peerless name!_