Of Nelson and the North |
Sing the glorious day’s renown, |
When to battle fierce came forth |
All the might of Denmark’s crown, |
And her arms along the deep proudly shone; |
By each gun the lighted brand |
In a bold determined hand, |
And the Prince of all the land |
Led them on.
|
Like leviathans afloat |
Lay their bulwarks on the brine; |
While the sign of battle flew |
On the lofty British line: |
It was ten of April morn by the chime: |
As they drifted on their path |
There was silence deep as death; |
And the boldest held his breath |
For a time.
|
But the might of England flush’d |
To anticipate the scene; |
And her van the fleeter rush’d |
O’er the deadly space between. |
‘Hearts of oak!’ our captains cried, when each
gun |
From its adamantine lips |
Spread a death-shade round the ships, |
Like the hurricane eclipse |
Of the sun.
|
Again! again! again! |
And the havoc did not slack, |
Till a feeble cheer the Dane |
To our cheering sent us back;— |
Their shots along the deep slowly boom:— |
Then ceased—and all is wail, |
As their strike the shatter’d sail; |
Or in conflagration pale |
Light the gloom.
|
Out spoke the victor then |
As he hail’d them o’er the wave, |
‘Ye are brothers! ye are men! |
And we conquer but to save:— |
So peace instead of death let us bring: |
But yield, proud foe, thy fleet |
With the crews, at England’s feet, |
And make submission meet |
To our King.’
|
Then Denmark blest our chief |
That he gave her wounds repose; |
And the sounds of joy and grief |
From her people wildly rose, |
As death withdrew his shades from the day: |
While the sun look’d smiling bright |
O’er a wide and woful sight, |
Where the fires of funeral light |
Died away.
|
Now joy, old England, raise! |
For the tidings of thy might, |
By the festal cities’ blaze, |
Whilst the wine-cup shines in light; |
And yet amidst that joy and uproar, |
Let us think of them that sleep |
Full many a fathom deep |
By thy wild and stormy steep, |
Elsinore!
|
Brave hearts! to Britain’s pride |
Once so faithful and so true, |
On the deck of fame they died |
With the gallant good Riou: |
Soft sigh the winds of Heaven o’er their grave! |
While the billow mournful rolls |
And the mermaid’s song condoles |
Singing glory to the souls |
Of the brave!
|
Thomas Campbell
|
Classic Poems |
|
[ Hohenlinden ] [ Freedom and Love ] [ Battle of the Baltic ] [ Lord Ullin's Daughter ] [ Ye Mariners of England ] [ To the Evening Star ] [ The River of Life ] |