When thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand formed thy dread feet?

What the hammer, what the chain,

Knit thy strength, and forged thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dared thy deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?

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Did He who made the lamb make thee?

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YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND

A NAVAL ODE

THOMAS CAMPBELL

THOMAS CAMPBELL (1777-1844) was born in Glasgow and was educated at the university in that city. He published the 'Pleasures of Hope' when only twenty-one. This was the beginning of a successful literary career, though the poem would be called dull to-day. Those of his poems most likely to live are the stirring lyrics included in this volume. Mention should also be made of 'Lochiel,' 'O'Connor's Child,' and 'Lord Ullin's Daughter.'

YE mariners of England!

That guard our native seas,

Whose flag has braved a thousand years
The battle and the breeze!

Your glorious standard launch again
To meet another foe!

And sweep through the deep,

While the stormy tempests blow;

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While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy tempests blow.

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The spirits of your fathers
Shall start from every wave!

For the deck it was their field of fame,
And Ocean was their grave:

Where Blake and mighty Nelson° fell,
Your manly hearts shall glow,
As ye sweep through the deep,
While the stormy tempests blow;
While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy tempests blow.

Britannia needs no bulwark,

No towers along the steep;

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When the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy tempests blow.

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E

The meteor flag of England

Shall yet terrific burn;

Till danger's troubled night depart,
And the star of peace return.

Then, then, ye ocean warriors!

Our song and feast shall flow
To the fame of your name,

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When the storm has ceased to blow;
When the fiery fight is heard no more,
And the storm has ceased to blow.

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BATTLE OF THE BALTIC°

THOMAS CAMPBELL

OF Nelson and the North,

Sing the glorious day's renown,

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 determined hand,

And the Prince of all the land

Led them on.

Like leviathans afloat,

Lay their bulwarks on the brine;
While the sign of battle flew
On the lofty British line :

ΤΟ

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 flush'd
To anticipate the scene;

And her van the fleeter rush'd

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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,

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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

As death withdrew his shades from the day.
While the sun look'd smiling bright

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O'er a wide and woful 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,

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 !

Brave hearts! to Britain's pride
Once so faithful and so true,

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