HOHENLINDEN (1802) On Linden, when the sun was low, 5 But Linden saw another sight, By torch and trumpet fast arrayed, 10 Each horseman drew his battle blade, And furious every charger neighed, To join the dreadful revelry. Then shook the hills with thunder riven, Then rushed the steed to battle driven, 15 And louder than the bolts of heaven, Far flashed the red artillery. 20 But redder yet that light shall glow, And bloodier yet the torrent flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun, Shout in their sulphurous canopy. 25 The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Few, few, shall part where many meet! BATTLE OF THE BALTIC (1809) Of Nelson and the North Sing the glorious day's renown, All the might of Denmark's crown, 5 And her arms along the deep proudly shone; By each gun the lighted brand In a bold determin'd hand, And the Prince of all the land 10 Like leviathans afloat Lay their bulwarks on the brine, On the lofty British line: It was ten of April morn by the chime; 15 As they drifted on their path, There was silence deep as death, But the might of England flushed 20 To anticipate the scene, And her van the fleeter rushed O'er the deadly space between "Hearts of oak," our captains cried, when each gun From its adamantine lips 25 Spread a death-shade round the ships, Like the hurricane eclipse Of the sun. Again! again! again! And the havoc did not slack, 30 Till a feeble cheer the Dane To our cheering sent us back; Their shots along the deep slowly boom:- As they strike the shattered sail, 35 Or in conflagration pale Light the gloom. Out spoke the victor then, So peace instead of death let us bring: With the crews, at England's feet, 45 To our King." Then Denmark blest our chief, 50 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. 55 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, 60 Let us think of them that sleep, By thy wild and stormy steep, Brave hearts! to Britain's pride 65 Once so faithful and so true, On the deck of fame that died,- Soft sigh the winds of heaven o'er their grave! While the billow mournful rolls, 70 And the mermaid's song condoles, Singing glory to the souls Rights that cost your sires their blood, Has been proved on land and flood: 5 By the foes ye've fought uncounted, 10 Yet, remember, England gathers What are monuments of bravery, Where no public virtues bloom? 15 What avail in lands of slavery, Trophied temples, arch and tomb? 20 Pageants!-Let the world revere us Yours are Hampden's, Russell's glory, Worth a hundred Agincourts! 25 We're the sons of sires that baffled They defied the field and scaffold SONG TO THE EVENING STAR Star that bringest home the bee, 5 Appearing when Heaven's breath and brow, 10 Come to the luxuriant skies, Whilst the landscape's odours rise, From cottages whose smoke unstirred Star of love's soft interviews, |