I tell thee, Culloden's dread echoes shall ring Now in darkness and billows, he sweeps from my sight: But where is the iron-bound prisoner? - where? Say, mounts he the occan-wave, banished, forlorn, The war-drum is muffled, and black is the bier; Yon sight, that it freezes my spirit to tell! Where his heart shall be thrown ere it ceases to beat, LOCHIEL. Down, soothless insulter! I trust not the tale: For never shall Albin a destiny meet So black with dishonor, so foul with retreat. Though my perishing ranks should be strewed in their gore, Like ocean-weeds heaped on the surf-beaten shore, Lochiel, untainted by flight or by chains, While the kindling of life in his bosom remains, Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low, With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe! Look proudly to Heaven from the death-bed of fame. BATTLE OF THE BALTIC. I. Or Nelson and the North, Sing the glorious day's renown 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, II. Lay their bulwarks on the brine; 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, III. But the might of England flushed To anticipate the scene; And her van the fleeter rushed O'er the deadly space between. "Hearts of oak!" our captains cried, when each From its adamantine lips Spread a death-shade round the ships, [gun Like the hurricane eclipse Of the sun. IV. Again! again! again! And the havoc did not slack, To our cheering sent us back : Their shots along the deep slowly boom; 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; So peace instead of death let us bring; To our King." VI. Then Denmark blessed our chief, That he gave her wounds repose; From her people wildly rose, As death withdrew his shades from the day, While the sun looked smiling bright O'er a wide and woful sight, Where the fires of funeral light Died away. VII. Now joy, Old England, raise! Whilst the wine-cup shines in light; By thy wild and stormy steep, VIII. Brave hearts! to Britain's pride Soft sigh the winds of Heaven o'er their grave! And the mermaid's song condoles, Of the brave! Captain Riou, justly entitled the gallant and the good, by Lord Nel son, when he wrote home his dispatches. 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 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. 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 winds do blow; While the battle rages loud and long, III. Britannia needs no bulwarks, |