Songs for Sailors :: :: University of Virginia Library

Now all you jolly sailors, you who love to wear the blue,
Come listen to the glorious tale to-day I'll tell to you.
'Tis of the greatest sailor that ever sailed the sea,
'Tis of our Nelson and the Nile that now my song shall be.
What Admiral ever stepped a deck like him of whom I sing?
What deeds, than his, a prouder flush to English cheeks should bring?
And of all the hundred fights he fought, the foremost on the file,
Save only famed Trafalgar's day, is this one of the Nile;
When we forget its glory, shall England cease to be
The foremost land in story and the ruler of the sea;
But as that you know can never be, 'twill be, my lads, some while
Before that we forget to tell of Nelson and the Nile.

We heard they'd sailed from Toulon—sailed bearing towards the East,
But which way they had gone, to us what mattered that the least?
So long as they were out of port, for what else did we care?
So long as at them we could get, they might go any-where.

Ten sail had joined us just in time, and a right good sort they sent;
We numbered thirteen seventy-fours, and after them we went
With every stitch of canvas set, due East for Egypt bound,
For well we guessed the Frenchmen there full surely would be found.
And there we should have found them, but we passed them on the way,
And blank we looked when not a mast showed in Aboukir's bay;
We'd beat them just by three days and they were safe awhile,
As North again in search of them, we bore up from the Nile.

That was the first of August when next we reached that shore,
For there it flew, on mast and fort, the flaunting tricolor,
And—a sight that did our eyes good—there anchored round the bay,
And ours at last, just thirteen sail, all safe the Frenchmen lay.
From east to west, right in to shore, their line of battle ran,
And shoal and fort they thought made safe the head ships of their van;
But of shoal and fort we never thought, for in our Admiral's look
We plainly saw, if they were safe, his meaning we mistook.
For days—till they were his at last—till now there lay their line,
He had not slept or eat: ‘Now, men,’ he laughing said, ‘I'll dine.’
It might have been his wedding-day, so happy was his smile,
He knew that many a year would tell of Nelson and the Nile.

‘Where they can swing, there we can swim; both sides their line,’ he said,
‘We'll have at them;’ and so, at six, inside brave Foley led.
Inside led the Goliath, by four more followed fast,
And, leading five outside their line, into their fire we passed;
On, grim and silent as the grave, through shot and shell we went,
With many a splintering hole below—above, full many a rent.
On went we, furling sails above—below, hushed round each gun;
While, as we near and nearer drew, fast down went many a one.
We had some thoughts, I tell you; those minutes were like years
Until we shaved their Spartiate—then you might hear our cheers.
Then they who looked on Nelson's face, they saw the conquering smile
That told what music were to him our broadsides at the Nile.

'Twas six when we began the game, at seven went down the sun;
The sudden night showed but the light flashed fast from every gun;
But, friend from foe, we still could know, if we were at a loss,
By our four lights at each mizen-peak and St. George's blood-red cross.
Two thousand guns were roaring death, but who their roaring feared,
Though three times, from dead and wounded, our foremost guns we cleared;
We knew that we were winning; we knew he could but win,
And hours went by like minutes as we hurled our broadsides in.

By nine three riddled Mounseers had sickened of the game,
By ten their Admiral's L'Orient was burning bright aflame;
And well our conquering hero, though wounded sore, might smile
As he learned how flag on flag was struck that midnight at the Nile.

At last their huge four-decker was hurled up with a roar
That struck the fight to silence for minutes ten and more;
At twelve the battle slackened, and when upsprung the day,
Not a Frenchman's flag was flying but on two that stood away.
Of thirteen sail, the Guillaume Tell and Généreux 'scaped alone;
The fire had two; the other nine were, safe and sure, our own.
'Twas ‘a conquest, not a victory’ our glorious Nelson said;
As there he, blinded, lay below, with the wounded and the dead;
As the hush of victory told him, as ceased the latest gun,
Not the tomb in the old Abbey, but the Peerage, he had won.
Then he said, ‘Let God be thanked, men!’ and who but thanked God while
We thought that He had spared to us our Nelson of the Nile?