The poetical works of Thomas Campbell/Battle of the Baltic

by Thomas Campbell (1777-1844)

 

BATTLE OF THE BALTIC.

I.Of Nelson and the North,Sing the glorious day's renown,When to battle fierce came forthAll 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 landLed them on.—

II.Like leviathans afloat,Lay their bulwarks on the brine;While the sign of battle flewOn the lofty British line:It was ten of April morn by the chimeAs they drifted on their path,There was silence deep as death;And the boldest held his breath,For a time.—

III.But the might of England flushedTo anticipate the scene;And her van the fleeter rush'dO'er the deadly space between.'Hearts of oak!' our captains cried; when each gunFrom its adamantine lipsSpread a death-shade round the ships,Like the hurricane eclipseOf the sun.

IV.Again! again! again!And the havock did not slack,Till a feeble cheer the DaneTo our cheering sent us back;—Their shots along the deep slowly boom:—Then ceased—and all is wail,As they strike the shatter'd sail;Or, in conflagration pale,Light the gloom.—

V.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 meetTo our King.'—

VI.Then Denmark bless'd our chief,That he gave her wounds repose;And the sounds of joy and griefFrom her people wildly rose,As death withdrew his shades from the dayWhile the sun look'd smiling brightO'er a wide and woeful sight,Where the fires of funeral lightDied away.

VII.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!

VIII.Brave hearts! to Britain's prideOnce so faithful and so true,On the deck of fame that died;—With the gallant good Riou^[1]:Soft sigh the winds of Heaven o'er their grave!While the billow mournful rollsAnd the mermaid's song condoles,Singing glory to the soulsOf the brave!—

1. Captain Riou, justly entitled the gallant and the good, by Lord Nelson, when he wrote home his despatches.