HOHENLINDEN. On Linden, when the sun was low, But Linden saw another sight, By torch and trumpet fast arrayed, Then shook the hills with thunder riven, But redder yet that light shall glow, 'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Few, few, shall part where many meet! 234 YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND. A NAVAL ODE Ye Mariners of England That guard our native scas, 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 do1 blow; While the battle rages loud and long, The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave! For the deck it was their field of fame, Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell As ye sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow; 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 As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow. The earl'er editions have while the stormy tempests blow' throughout The meteor flag of England Shall yet terrific burn, Till danger's troubled night depart When the storm has ceased to blow; BATTLE OF THE BALTIC. Of Nelson and the North 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 determin'd hand, And the Prince of all the land Led them on. Like leviathans afloat 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 For a time. But the might of England flushed 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 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 :- As they strike the shattered sail, Or in conflagration pale Light the gloom. 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.' 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; O'er a wide and woeful 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, While the wine cup shines in light; And yet amidst that joy and uproar, By thy wild and stormy steep, Brave hearts! to Britain's pride On the deck of fame that died, With the gallant good Riou, Soft sigh the winds of heaven o'er their grave! And the mermaid's song condoles, Of the brave! THE ONEYDA'S DEATH-SONG. [From Gertrude of Wyoming, Part III.] Hushed were his Gertrude's lips, but still their bland With love that could not die; and still his hand She presses to the heart no more that felt. Ah heart! where once each fond affection dwelt, Mute, gazing, agonizing as he knelt, Of them that stood encircling his despair, He heard some friendly words ;-but knew not what they were For now, to mourn their judge and child, arrives |