’Two of their caravels we sank, and one
(Fouled with her consort in the rigging) took
Ere she could catch the wind when she rode free. 
And we have riddled many a sail, and split
Of spars a score or two.  What then?  To-morrow
They look to straddle across the strait, and hold
Having aye Calais for a shelter—­hold
Our ships in fight.  To-morrow shall give account
For our to-day.  They will not we pass north
To meddle with Parma’s flotilla; their hope
Being Parma, and a convoy they would be
For his flat boats that bode invasion to us;
And if he reach to London—­ruin, defeat.’

Three fleets the sun went down on, theirs of fame
Th’ Armada.  After space old England’s few;
And after that our dancing cockle-shells,
The volunteers.  They took some pride in us,
For we were nimble, and we brought them powder,
Shot, weapons.  They were short of these.  Ill found,
Ill found.  The bitter fruit of evil thrift. 
But while obsequious, darting here and there,
We took their messages from ship to ship,
From ship to shore, the moving majesties
Made Calais Roads, cast anchor, all their less
In the middle ward; their greater ships outside
Impregnable castles fearing not assault.

So did we read their thought, and read it wrong,
While after the running fight we rode at ease,
For many (as is the way of Englishmen)
Having made light of our stout deeds, and light
O’ the effects proceeding, saw these spread
To view.  The Spanish Admiral’s mighty host,
Albeit not broken, harass’d. 
                               Some did tow
Others that we had plagued, disabled, rent;
Many full heavily damaged made their berths.

Then did the English anchor out of range. 
To close was not their wisdom with such foe,
Rather to chase him, following in the rear. 
Ay, truly they were giants in our eyes
And in our own.  They took scant heed of us,
And we looked on, and knew not what to think,
Only that we were lost men, a lost Isle,
In every Spaniard’s mind, both great and small.

But no such thought had place in Howard’s soul,
And when ’t was dark, and all their sails were furled,
When the wind veered a few points to the west,
And the tide turned ruffling along the roads,
He sent eight fireships forging down to them.

Terrible!  Terrible! 
                      Blood-red pillars of reek
They looked on that vast host and troubled it,
As on th’ Egyptian host One looked of old.

Then all the heavens were rent with a great cry,
The red avengers went right on, right on,
For none could let them; then was ruin, reek, flame;
Against th’ unwieldy huge leviathans
They drave, they fell upon them as wild beasts,
And all together they did plunge and grind,
Their reefed sails set a-blazing, these flew loose
And forth like banners of destruction sped.