Southward through day and dark, They drift in close embrace, With mist and rain, o'er the open main; Yet there seems no change of place. Southward, forever southward, They drift through dark and day; And like a dream, in the Gulf-Stream Sinking, vanish all away. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. With the destruction of the Armada in 1588, Spain's sea power was so shattered that the Atlantic ceased to be a battleground. English sailors could come and go with a fair degree of safety, and before long the American coast was alive with these daring and adventurous voyagers. THE FIRST AMERICAN SAILORS _Five fearless knights of the first renown In Elizabeth's great array, From Plymouth in Devon sailed up and down-- American sailors they; Who went to the West, For they all knew best Where the silver was gray As a moonlit night, And the gold as bright As a midsummer day-- A-sailing away Through the salt sea spray, The first American sailors._ Sir HUMPHREY GILBERT, he was ONE _And Devon was heaven to him_, He loved the sea as he loved the sun _And hated the Don as the Devil's limb-- Hated him up to the brim_: In Holland the Spanish hide he tanned, He roughed and routed their braggart band, And God was with him on sea and land; Newfoundland knew him, and all that coast For he was one of America's host-- And now there is nothing but English speech For leagues and leagues, and reach on reach, From near the Equator away to the Pole; While the billows beat and the oceans roll On the Three Americas. Sir FRANCIS DRAKE, and he was TWO _And Devon was heaven to him_, He loved in his heart the waters blue _And hated the Don as the Devil's limb-- Hated him up to the brim_! At Cadiz he singed the King's black beard, The Armada met him and fled afeard, Great Philip's golden fleece he sheared; Oregon knew him, and all that coast, For he was one of America's host-- And now there is nothing but English speech For leagues and leagues, and reach on reach, From California away to the Pole; While the billows beat and the oceans roll On the Three Americas. Sir WALTER RALEIGH, he was THREE _And Devon was heaven to him_, There was nothing he loved so well as the sea-- _He hated the Don as the Devil's limb-- Hated him up to the brim_! He settled full many a Spanish score, Full many's the banner his bullets tore On English, American, Spanish shore; Guiana knew him, and all that coast, For he was one of America's host-- And now there is nothing but English speech For leagues and leagues, and reach on reach, From Guiana northward to the Pole; While the billows beat and the oceans roll On the Three Americas.