Page:Modern poets and poetry of Spain.djvu/171

Rh Her envy is the city fair

Of Hercules, so proudly there,

Couch'd on the Atlantic gates;

Girt by the sea, that from the west

Comes fraught with gold, and her behest

Before her bending waits.

With venal aid of hate assists

Unfruitful England, throne of mists,

Whose fields no sun behold;

Which Flora with false smile has clad

In sterile green, where flowers look sad,

And love itself is cold.

Greedy the poison gold to seize,

They with the monster Avarice,

The peace of Spain abhor;

And by their horrid arts increased,

Turn ev'n the treasures of the East

To instruments of war.

Their proud Armada, which the main

Tosses to heaven, or threats in vain

To engulf, they mustering show:

Ye suffer it not, ye pupils brave

Of the Basans, and to the wave

Launch yours to meet the foe.