There lies a cold corpse upon the sands Down by the rolling sea; Close up the eyes and straighten the hands As a Christian man’s should be.Bury it de… - Robert Stephen Hawker

We see them not—we cannot hear The music of their wing—
Yet know we that they sojourn near, The Angels of the spring!They glide along this lovely ground When the first violet grows;
Their graceful hands have just unbound The zone of yonder rose.I gather it for thy dear breast, From stain and shadow free:
That which an Angel’s touch hath blest Is meet, my love, for thee!

A good sword and a trusty hand! A merry heart and true!
King James’s men shall understand What Cornish lads can do.And have they fix’d the where and when? And shall Trelawny die?
Here’s twenty thousand Cornish men Will know the reason why!

Waes-hael for knight and dame! O merry be their dole!
Drink-hael! in Jesu’s name We fill the tawny bowl;
But cover down the curving crest,
Mould of the Orient Lady’s breast.