The combat deepens. On, ye brave,
Who rush to glory, or the grave!
Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave!
And charge with all thy chivalry!

Few, few shall part, where many meet!
The snow shall be their winding-sheet,
And every turf beneath their feet
Shall be a soldier's sepulchre !

BATTLE OF THE BALTIC.

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.-

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.-

But the might of England flush'd
To anticipate the scene;

And her van the fleeter rush'd

O'er the deadly space between.

"Hearts of oak!" our captain cried; when each gun

From its adamantine lips
Spread a death-shade round the ships,
Like the hurricane eclipse

Of the sun.—

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 ceas'd-and all is wail,

As they strike the shatter'd sail;

Or, in conflagration pale,
Light the gloom.-

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 blest 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 woful 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!

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:

While the stormy winds do blow; While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.