And four hours after, he had done Then said he, "Hardy, is that you? Well, 'twas his chosen death, below YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND THOMAS CAMPBELL THE victory of Trafalgar destroyed the French and Spanish fleets and secured to Britain the mastery of the seas. There was no further fear of invasion for the island kingdom. Her only rival, the United States, was three thousand miles distant. I Ye Mariners of England That guard our native seas. Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, Your glorious standard launch again And sweep through the deep, II The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave For the deck it was their field of fame, III Britannia needs no bulwarks, 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 She quells the floods below 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. IV The meteor flag of England Shall yet terrific burn; Till danger's troubled night depart When the storm has ceased to blow; AT CORUÑA ROBERT SOUTHEY THE nations of Europe had one by one yielded to Napoleon until his conquest of the Continent seemed as complete as England's control of the sea. The first opportunity to meet the great antagonist on land came when (1808) the Spanish people rose in revolt against his tyranny. An English army, under Sir Arthur Wellesley, later Duke of Wellington, was immediately sent to their aid. The French were driven from Portugal, but the attempt to shake their hold on Spain was at first unsuccessful. Sir John Moore, with an army of twenty thousand men, advanced to Salamanca, but learning that Napoleon was marching to meet him with a force twice his own, the English commander beat a hasty retreat to Coruña. Here he expected to find transports to convey his shattered troops back to England. The vessels were late, however, and Moore found himself obliged to fight (January 6, 1809). The French were beaten off at every point, but in the moment of victory, Sir John fell, mortally wounded. The English were embarked the same night. When from these shores the British army first The admiring people who beheld its march Stores, treasure and artillery, in the wreck Here ere they reach'd their ships, they turn'd at bay. Had seen the else indelible reproach Of England, saw the stain effaced in blood. THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE CHARLES WOLFE MOORE was buried at Coruña in the garden of San Carlos. A monument was erected on the spot in 1814. Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corpse to the ramparts we hurried; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him. Few and short were the prayers we said, We thought as we hollowed his narrow bed And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow! |