Like leviathans afloat, Lay their bulwarks on the brine; On the lofty British line : It was ten of April morn by the chime : There was silence deep as death; And the boldest-held his breath But the might of England flush'd And her van the fleeter rush'd 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, 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 ceased-and all is wail, As they strike the shatter'd sail Or, in conflagration pale, Light the gloom! gun 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, To our king." Then Denmark bless'd our chief, That he their wounds repose; gave 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 While the wine-cup shines in light- By thy wild and stormy steep, Brave hearts! to Britain's pride On the deck of fame that died, Soft sigh the winds of heaven o'er their grave! And the mermaid's song condoles, Of the brave! CAMPBELL. FIELD OF WATERLOO. STOP-for thy tread is on an empire's dust! An earthquake's spoil is sepulchred below! Is the spot mark'd with no colossal bust ? Nor column trophied for triumphal show? None; but the moral's truth tells simpler so. As the ground was before, thus let it be.— How that red rain hath made the harvest grow! And is this all the world has gain'd by thee, Thou first and last of fields! king-making Victory? |