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 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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