And her van the fleeter rushed O'er the deadly space between. "Hearts of oak!" our captain cried; when each gun From its adamantine lips Spread a death-shade round the ships, Like the hurricane eclipse Of the sun. IV. Again! again! again! And the havoc did not slack, Till a feeble cheer the Dane To our cheering sent us back; As they strike the shattered sail, Light the gloom. V. 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; To our king." VI. Then Denmark blessed our chief, That he gave her wounds repose; And the sounds of joy and grief As Death withdrew his shades from the day-- O'er a wide and woeful 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 With the gallant, good Riou Soft sigh the winds of heaven o'er their grave! Of the brave! VALEDICTORY STANZAS TO JOHN PHILIP KEMBLE. PRIDE of the British stage, A long and last adieu ! Whose image brought the heroic age Revived to Fancy's view. Like fields refreshed with dewy light Thy parting presence makes more bright That wine or music need not swell, As high we lift the festal cup To Kemble! fare thee well! His was the spell o'er hearts Full many a tone of thought sublime, Time may again revive, But ne'er eclipse the charm, What soul was not resigned entire To the deep sorrows of the Moor,— What English heart was not on fire With him at Agincourt? And yet a majesty possessed His transport's most impetuous tone, High were the task-too high, Of Kemble and of Lear; But who forgets that white, discrowned head, Those bursts of reason's half-extinguished glare Those tears upon Cordelia's bosom shed, In doubt more touching than despair, If 'twas reality he felt? Had Shakespeare's self amidst you been, Friends, he had seen you melt, And triumphed to have seen ! And there was many an hour And sister magic came. The tragic paragons had grownThey were the children of her pride, The columns of her throne; And undivided favour ran From heart to heart in their applause, Save for the gallantry of man In lovelier woman's cause. Fair as some classic dome, Your Kemble's spirit was the home These were his traits of worth :- And shall the scene no more show forth Alas, the moral brings a tear ! 'Tis all a transient hour below; And we that would detain thee here, Yet shall our latest age This parting scene review: Pride of the British stage, A long and last adieu ! |