A Household Book of English Poetry: Selected and Arranged with Notes

American poetry; English poetry

There’s Derby and Cavendish, dread of their foes;
    There’s Erin’s high Ormond and Scotland’s Montrose!
    Would you match the base Skippon, and Massey, and Brown,
    With the Barons of England, that fight for the Crown?             20

    Now joy to the crest of the brave Cavalier!
    Be his banner unconquered, resistless his spear,
    Till in peace and in triumph his toils he may drown
    In a pledge to Fair England, her Church, and her Crown.
              _Sir Walter Scott._




CCVII

_THE BATTLE OF THE BALTIC._


    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;                         5
    By each gun the lighted brand
    In a bold determined hand,
    And the Prince of all the land
    Led them on.

    Like leviathans afloat                                            10
    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,                                    15
    There was silence deep as death,
    And the boldest held his breath
    For a time.

    But the might of England flushed
    To anticipate the scene;                                          20
    And her van the fleeter rushed
    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,                             25
    Like the hurricane eclipse
    Of the sun.

    Again! again! again!
    And the havoc did not slack,
    Till a feeble cheer the Dane                                      30
    To our cheering sent us back;--
    Their shots along the deep slowly boom:--
    Then ceased--and all is wail,
    As they strike the shattered sail,
    Or, in conflagration pale,                                        35
    Light the gloom.

    Out spoke the victor then,
    As he hailed them o’er the wave:
    ‘Ye are brothers! ye are men!
    And we conquer but to save:                                       40
    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.’                                                     45

    Then Denmark blessed 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;                        50
    While the sun looked smiling bright
    O’er a wide and woeful sight,
    Where the fires of funeral light
    Died away.

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

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General

A Household Book of English Poetry: Selected and Arranged with Notes

American poetry; English poetry

There’s Derby and Cavendish, dread of their foes;
    There’s Erin’s high Ormond and Scotland’s Montrose!
    Would you match the base Skippon, and Massey, and Brown,
    With the Barons of England, that fight for the Crown?             20

    Now joy to the crest of the brave Cavalier!
    Be his banner unconquered, resistless his spear,
    Till in peace and in triumph his toils he may drown
    In a pledge to Fair England, her Church, and her Crown.
              _Sir Walter Scott._




CCVII

_THE BATTLE OF THE BALTIC._


    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;                         5
    By each gun the lighted brand
    In a bold determined hand,
    And the Prince of all the land
    Led them on.

    Like leviathans afloat                                            10
    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,                                    15
    There was silence deep as death,
    And the boldest held his breath
    For a time.

    But the might of England flushed
    To anticipate the scene;                                          20
    And her van the fleeter rushed
    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,                             25
    Like the hurricane eclipse
    Of the sun.

    Again! again! again!
    And the havoc did not slack,
    Till a feeble cheer the Dane                                      30
    To our cheering sent us back;--
    Their shots along the deep slowly boom:--
    Then ceased--and all is wail,
    As they strike the shattered sail,
    Or, in conflagration pale,                                        35
    Light the gloom.

    Out spoke the victor then,
    As he hailed them o’er the wave:
    ‘Ye are brothers! ye are men!
    And we conquer but to save:                                       40
    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.’                                                     45

    Then Denmark blessed 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;                        50
    While the sun looked smiling bright
    O’er a wide and woeful sight,
    Where the fires of funeral light
    Died away.

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

A Household Book of English Poetry: Selected and Arranged with Notes

A Household Book of English Poetry: Selected and Arranged with Notes

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