1814. DUKE OF WELLINGTON’S THANKS _Colchester_ 102 1814. NEGOTIATIONS WITH BUONAPARTE _Southey_ 105 1815. INTERVIEW WITH NAPOLEON IN ELBA _Vivian_ 109 1815. WATERLOO _Wellington’s Despatches_ 112 ENGLAND AND NAPOLEON 1801-1815 THE BATTLE OF THE BALTIC (1801). =Source.=--Thomas Campbell: _Historical Lyrics and Ballads_. P. 93. I. 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. II. 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. III. But the might of England flushed To anticipate the scene; 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, Like the hurricane eclipse Of the sun. IV. 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 cease--and all is wail, As they strike the shattered sail; Or in conflagration pale Light the gloom. V. 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! 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.” VI. 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: While the sun looked smiling bright O’er a wide and woful sight, Where the fires of funeral light Died away. VII. 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! VIII.