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With that the bark came bounding up, then staid her in her flight, And right beneath the terrace she moor'd her in their sight. "Now, by my troth," exclaim'd the queen, "it is our captain's bark: What brings the loiterer back again?"— her eye and brow grew dark.

"Fair queen," replied a voice below, "I pay a vow of mine, And never yet was voyage delay'd by worship at a shrine."— He took the jewel in his hand, and bent him on his knee, Then flung the scarf around his neck where all the gem might see.

His white plumes swept the very deck, yet once he glanced above, The courtesy was for the queen, the glance was for his love. "Now, fare thee well," then said the queen, "for thou art a true knight;"— But even as she spoke the ship was flitting from the sight.

Wo to the Spaniards and their gold amid the Indian seas, When roll'd the thunder of that deck upon the southern breeze; For bravely Sir John Perrot bore our flag across the main, And England's bells for victory rang when he came home again.