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.' Then Denmark bless'd 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 look'd smiling bright O'er a wide and woeful sight, Where the fires of funeral light Died away. 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! Brave hearts! to Britain's pride Once so faithful and so true, On the deck of fame that died, With the gallant good Riou: Soft sigh the winds of Heaven o'er their grave! While the billow mournful rolls And the mermaid's song condoles Singing glory to the souls Of the brave! _T. Campbell_ CCLII _ODE TO DUTY_ Stern Daughter of the Voice of God! O Duty! if that name thou love Who art a light to guide, a rod To check the erring, and reprove; Thou who art victory and law When empty terrors overawe; From vain temptations dost set free, And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity! There are who ask not if thine eye Be on them; who, in love and truth Where no misgiving is, rely Upon the genial sense of youth: Glad hearts! without reproach or blot, Who do thy work, and know it not: Oh! if through confidence misplaced They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power! around them cast. Serene will be our days and bright And happy will our nature be When love is an unerring light, And joy its own security. And they a blissful course may hold Ev'n now, who, not unwisely bold, Live in the spirit of this creed; Yet seek thy firm support, according to their need. I, loving freedom, and untried, No sport of every random gust, Yet being to myself a guide, Too blindly have reposed my trust: And oft, when in my heart was heard Thy timely mandate, I deferr'd The task, in smoother walks to stray; But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may. Through no disturbance of my soul Or strong compunction in me wrought, I supplicate for thy controul, But in the quietness of thought: Me this uncharter'd freedom tires; I feel the weight of chance-desires: My hopes no more must change their name; I long for a repose that ever is the same.