Steep is the soldier’s path; nor are the heights Of glory to be won without long toil And arduous efforts of enduring hope; Save when Death takes the aspirant by the hand, And cutting short the work of years, at once Lifts him to that conspicuous eminence. Such fate was mine.--The standard of the Buffs I bore at Albuera, on that day When, covered by a shower, and fatally For friends misdeem’d, the Polish lancers fell Upon our rear. Surrounding me, they claim’d My precious charge.--‘Not but with life!’ I cried, And life was given for immortality. The flag which to my heart I held, when wet With that heart’s blood, was soon victoriously Regain’d on that great day. In former times, Marlborough beheld it borne at Ramilies; For Brunswick and for liberty it waved Triumphant at Culloden; and hath seen The lilies on the Caribbean shores Abased before it. Then too in the front Of battle did it flap exultingly, When Douro, with its wide stream interposed, Saved not the French invaders from attack, Discomfiture, and ignominious rout. My name is Thomas: undisgraced have I Transmitted it. He who in days to come May bear the honour’d banner to the field, Will think of Albuera, and of me. _Robert Southey._ CAMPBELL XLV YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND Ye Mariners of England! That guard our native seas; Whose flag has braved a thousand years The battle and the breeze! Your glorious standard launch again To match another foe! And sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow; While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow. The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave! For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave: Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell Your manly hearts shall glow, As ye sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow; While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow. Britannia needs no bulwarks, No towers along the steep; Her march is o’er the mountain-waves, Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak She quells the floods below, As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow. The meteor flag of England Shall yet terrific burn; Till danger’s troubled night depart, And the star of peace return. Then, then, ye ocean warriors! Our song and feast shall flow To the fame of your name, When the storm has ceased to blow; When the fiery fight is heard no more, And the storm has ceased to blow. _Thomas Campbell._ XLVI THE BATTLE OF THE BALTIC