For sore dismay'd, through storm and shade

His child he did discover:

One lovely hand she stretch'd for aid,

And one was round her lover.

"Come back! come back!" he cried in grief, "Across this stormy water;

And I'll forgive your Highland chief,

My daughter! - oh, my daughter!"

'Twas vain the loud waves lash'd the shore, Return or aid preventing';

The waters wild went o'er his child,
And he was left lamenting.

HOHENLINDEN

THOMAS CAMPBELL

N Linden, when the sun was low,

All bloodless lay the untrodden snow,
And dark as winter was the flow
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

But Linden saw another sight,
When the drum beat at dead of night,
Commanding fires of death to light
The darkness of her scenery.

By torch and trumpet fast arrayed,
Each horseman drew his battle blade,
And furious every charger neighed
To join the dreadful revelry.

Then shook the hills, with thunder riven;
Then rushed the steed to battle driven;
And, louder than the bolts of heaven,
Far flashed the red artillery.

But redder yet that light shall glow
On Linden's hills of stainèd snow,
And bloodier yet the torrent flow
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

'Tis morn; but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun, Shout in their sulphurous canopy.

The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave! Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry!

Few, few shall part where many meet!}
The snow shall be their winding-sheet,
And every turf beneath their feet
Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.

YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND

THOMAS CAMPBELL

E mariners of England,

YE

That guard our native seas,

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 do blow;

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

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 winds do blow;

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

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.

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,

When the storm has ceased to blow;

When the fiery fight is heard no more,

And the storm has ceased to blow.