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 ceased—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 woeful 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, While 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. Brave hearts! to Britain’s pride Once so faithful and so true, On the deck of fame that died;— With the gallant good Riou:[70] 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! [70] Captain Riou, justly entitled the gallant and the good, by Lord Nelson when he wrote home his despatches. YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND: A NAVAL ODE. I. 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 meet another foe! And sweep through the deep, While the stormy tempests blow; While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy tempests blow. II. 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 tempests blow; While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy tempests blow. III. Britannia needs no bulwark, 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 tempests blow: When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy tempests blow. IV. 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.