THOMAS CAMPBELL
From its adamantine lips
Spread a death -shade round the ships,
Like the hurricane eclipse
Of the sun.
Again I 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 they 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.' . . .
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,
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