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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=409985" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Temeraire</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The gloomy hulls in armor grim,<br>Like clouds o'er moors have met,<br>And prove that oak, and iron, and man<br>Are tough in fibre yet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But Splendors wane. The sea-fight yields<br>No front of old display;<br>The garniture, emblazonment,<br>And heraldry all decay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Towering afar in parting light,<br>The fleets like Albion's forelands shine--<br>The full-sailed fleets, the shrouded show<br>Of Ships-of-the-Line.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The fighting _Temeraire,_<br>Built of a thousand trees,<br>Lunging out her lightnings,<br>And beetling o'er the seas--<br>O Ship, how brave and fair,<br>That fought so oft and well,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On open decks you manned the gun<br>Armorial.<br>What cheerings did you share,<br>Impulsive in the van,<br>When down upon leagued France and<br>Spain<br>We English ran--<br>The freshet at your bowsprit<br>Like the foam upon the can.<br>Bickering, your colors<br>Licked up the Spanish air,<br>You flapped with flames of battle-flags--<br>Your challenge, _Temeraire!_<br>The rear ones of our fleet<br>They yearned to share your place,<br>Still vying with the Victory<br>Throughout that earnest race--<br>The Victory, whose Admiral,<br>With orders nobly won,<br>Shone in the globe of the battle glow--<br>The angel in that sun.<br>Parallel in story,<br>Lo, the stately pair,<br>As late in grapple ranging,<br>The foe between them there--<br>When four great hulls lay tiered,<br>And the fiery tempest cleared,<br>And your prizes twain appeared,<br>_Temeraire!_</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But Trafalgar is over now,<br>The quarter-deck undone;<br>The carved and castled navies fire<br>Their evening-gun.<br>O, Titan _Temeraire,_<br>Your stern-lights fade away;<br>Your bulwarks to the years must yield,<br>And heart-of-oak decay.<br>A pigmy steam-tug tows you,<br>Gigantic, to the shore--<br>Dismantled of your guns and spars,<br>And sweeping wings of war.<br>The rivets clinch the iron clads,<br>Men learn a deadlier lore;<br>But Fame has nailed your battle-flags--<br>Your ghost it sails before:<br>O, the navies old and oaken,<br>O, the _Temeraire_ no more!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Herman+Melville">Herman Melville</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=409985" data-title="The Temeraire de Herman Melville" data-description="The gloomy hulls in armor grim,
Like clouds o'er moors have met,
And prove that oak, and iron, and man
Are tough in fibre yet.

But Splendors wane. The sea-fight yields
No front of old display;
The garniture, emblazonment,
And heraldry all decay.
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