Unswerving courage! that alone the shield That turns adversity’s sharp knife aside: To joy turns sorrow; bids despair to yield To glory, and of fortune learns to guide The dubious whirlwind, victory in its train; For a high-minded race commands its fate. O, Spain! my country! covering thy domain, The mourning shows how great thy suffering state; But still hope on, and with undaunted brow, From base dejection free, behold the walls Of thy own lofty Gades, which avow Thy strength, though fate them now awhile appals; Which though affrighted, blushing in their shame, As bathing them around the waves extend, Yet loud thy sons’ heroic deeds proclaim, Far on the sounding billows they defend. From the proud castled poop that crowns his high Indomitable ship, the Briton round Look’d, on his power and glory to rely, And boastful cried, “Companions renown’d! See, there they come: new trophies to attain Wait your unconquer’d arms; the feeble pines That Spain prepares for her defence in vain: Fate from our yoke exemption none assigns. We are the sons of Neptune. Do they dare To plough the waves before us? Call to mind Aboukir’s memorable day! to share Another such a triumph: let us find One moment as sufficing us to come, To conquer, and destroy them. Grant it me, Kind fate! and let us crown’d with laurels home Our wealthy Thames again returning see.”