Talavera Ninth Edition. To Which are Added, Other Poems [by J. W. Croker] |
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| SONGS
OF
TRAFALGAR. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
 | Talavera |  |
65
SONGS OF TRAFALGAR.
1805.
I.
Though I do love my country's weal,
As well as any soul that breathes;
Though more than filial pride I feel,
To see her crown'd with conqu'ring wreaths;
As well as any soul that breathes;
Though more than filial pride I feel,
To see her crown'd with conqu'ring wreaths;
Yet from my heart do I deplore
Her recent triumphs on the main,
Those laurels dripping red with gore,
That victory bought with Nelson slain.
Her recent triumphs on the main,
Those laurels dripping red with gore,
That victory bought with Nelson slain.
66
Oh! dearest conquest, heaviest loss,
That England's hope and heart have known
Since first, in fight, her blood-red cross
O'er the great deep triumphant shone.—
That England's hope and heart have known
Since first, in fight, her blood-red cross
O'er the great deep triumphant shone.—
And she should wail that conquest dear,
And she that heavy loss should mourn;
Hallow with sighs her Hero's bier,
And gem with tears her Hero's urn.
And she that heavy loss should mourn;
Hallow with sighs her Hero's bier,
And gem with tears her Hero's urn.
Shame on the wild and callous rout
That lights for joy its countless fires,
That hails the day with mad'ning shout,
While He, who won the day, expires!
That lights for joy its countless fires,
That hails the day with mad'ning shout,
While He, who won the day, expires!
67
It was, indeed, a glorious day,—
And every homage of the heart
Were just, that rescued realms can pay,
Had Nelson lived to share his part.
And every homage of the heart
Were just, that rescued realms can pay,
Had Nelson lived to share his part.
Had Nelson lived to hear our praise,
I too had hymn'd the victor's song;
I too had lit the joyous blaze,
And wildly join'd the exulting throng.
I too had hymn'd the victor's song;
I too had lit the joyous blaze,
And wildly join'd the exulting throng.
But He is blind to pageant gay,
And he is deaf to joyous strain;
And I will raise no pleasant lay,
And swell no pomp for Nelson slain.
And he is deaf to joyous strain;
And I will raise no pleasant lay,
And swell no pomp for Nelson slain.
68
But I will commune with my mind,
To celebrate its darling Chief
What worthiest tribute it may find
Of soften'd pride, of temper'd grief.
To celebrate its darling Chief
What worthiest tribute it may find
Of soften'd pride, of temper'd grief.
Ye good and great, 'tis yours to raise
The storied vase, the column tall,
To every future age to praise
His life, and consecrate his fall:
The storied vase, the column tall,
To every future age to praise
His life, and consecrate his fall:
Mine it will be, (oh! would my tongue
Were gifted with immortal verse!)
To strew, with many a sorrowing song,
Parnassian cypress o'er his hearse.
Were gifted with immortal verse!)
To strew, with many a sorrowing song,
Parnassian cypress o'er his hearse.
69
1805.
II.
The fight was long;—and deep in blood
Britain's triumphant warriors stood:
High, o'er the wave, untorn, unstain'd,
The ensigns of her glory reign'd:
Around, the wreck'd and vanquish'd pride
Of hostile navies strew'd the tide;
Or scatter'd, as the tempest bore,
Their ruins on the affrighted shore.
The haughty hopes of France and Spain,
Had dream'd of conquest's laurel crown—
O! vision, arrogant and vain!—
Nelson has swept them from the main,
And dash'd their airy trophies down:
Their fancied wreaths his brow adorn,
Won by his valour, in his triumph worn.
Britain's triumphant warriors stood:
High, o'er the wave, untorn, unstain'd,
The ensigns of her glory reign'd:
Around, the wreck'd and vanquish'd pride
Of hostile navies strew'd the tide;
Or scatter'd, as the tempest bore,
Their ruins on the affrighted shore.
70
Had dream'd of conquest's laurel crown—
O! vision, arrogant and vain!—
Nelson has swept them from the main,
And dash'd their airy trophies down:
Their fancied wreaths his brow adorn,
Won by his valour, in his triumph worn.
But, hark! amidst the joyous shout,
For Spain's defeat, and France's rout:
But, hark! amidst the glad acclaim
Of England's honour, Nelson's fame,
What deep and sullen sounds arise?
Are these, alas! victorious cries?
Boad they a widow'd nation's woe;
The triumph vain, and Nelson low?—
In his full glory's brightest blaze,
On the high summit of his deeds,
While Victory's saintly halo plays,
With living fire,—immortal rays,—
Around his head, the Hero bleeds;
In pomp of death, to mortal eyes
Never before revealed, the Hero dies.
For Spain's defeat, and France's rout:
But, hark! amidst the glad acclaim
Of England's honour, Nelson's fame,
What deep and sullen sounds arise?
Are these, alas! victorious cries?
71
The triumph vain, and Nelson low?—
In his full glory's brightest blaze,
On the high summit of his deeds,
While Victory's saintly halo plays,
With living fire,—immortal rays,—
Around his head, the Hero bleeds;
In pomp of death, to mortal eyes
Never before revealed, the Hero dies.
He dies! but while on Egypt's strand
The Ptolomean tower shall stand;—
Stain'd with the turbid streams of Nile,
While seas shall beat Aboukir's isle;—
While the white ocean breaks and roars
On Trafalgar's immortal shores;—
While high St. Vincent's towery steep,
And, giant of the Atlantic deep,
Dark Teneriffe, like beacons, guide
The wanderers of the western wave;
Sublime shall stand, amid the tide
Of baffled Time,—his country's pride—
The sacred memory of the brave;
And Nelson's emulated name
Shine the proud sea-mark to the ports of Fame!
The Ptolomean tower shall stand;—
Stain'd with the turbid streams of Nile,
While seas shall beat Aboukir's isle;—
72
On Trafalgar's immortal shores;—
While high St. Vincent's towery steep,
And, giant of the Atlantic deep,
Dark Teneriffe, like beacons, guide
The wanderers of the western wave;
Sublime shall stand, amid the tide
Of baffled Time,—his country's pride—
The sacred memory of the brave;
And Nelson's emulated name
Shine the proud sea-mark to the ports of Fame!
73
1805.
III.
'Twas at the close of that dark morn
On which our Hero, conquering, died,
That every seaman's heart was torn
By strife of sorrow and of pride;—
On which our Hero, conquering, died,
That every seaman's heart was torn
By strife of sorrow and of pride;—
Of pride, that one short day would show
Deeds of eternal splendour done,
Full twenty hostile ensigns low,
And twenty glorious victories won—
Deeds of eternal splendour done,
Full twenty hostile ensigns low,
And twenty glorious victories won—
74
Of grief, of deepest, tenderest grief,
That He, on every sea and shore,
Their brave, beloved, unconquer'd Chief,
Should wave his victor-flag no more.
That He, on every sea and shore,
Their brave, beloved, unconquer'd Chief,
Should wave his victor-flag no more.
Sad was the eve of that dire day:
But sadder, direr was the night;
When human rage had ceased the fray,
And elements maintain'd the fight.
But sadder, direr was the night;
When human rage had ceased the fray,
And elements maintain'd the fight.
All shaken in the conflict past,
The navies fear'd the tempest loud—
The gale, that shook the groaning mast—
The wave, that climb'd the tatter'd shroud.
The navies fear'd the tempest loud—
The gale, that shook the groaning mast—
The wave, that climb'd the tatter'd shroud.
75
By passing gleams of sullen light,
The worn and weary seamen view'd
The hard-earn'd prizes of the fight
Sink, found'ring, in the midnight flood:
The worn and weary seamen view'd
The hard-earn'd prizes of the fight
Sink, found'ring, in the midnight flood:
And oft, as drowning screams they heard,
And oft, as sank the ships around,
Some British vessel lost they fear'd,
And mourn'd some British brethren drown'd.
And oft, as sank the ships around,
Some British vessel lost they fear'd,
And mourn'd some British brethren drown'd.
And oft they cried, (as memory roll'd
On Him, so late their hope and guide
But now a bloody corse and cold,)
‘Was it for this, that Nelson died?’
On Him, so late their hope and guide
But now a bloody corse and cold,)
‘Was it for this, that Nelson died?’
76
For three short days, and three long nights,
They wrestled with the tempest's force;
And sank the trophies of their fights,—
And thought upon that bloody corse!—
They wrestled with the tempest's force;
And sank the trophies of their fights,—
And thought upon that bloody corse!—
But when the fairer morn arose
Bright o'er the yet-tumultuous main,
They saw no wreck but that of foes,
No ruin but of France and Spain:
Bright o'er the yet-tumultuous main,
They saw no wreck but that of foes,
No ruin but of France and Spain:
And victors now of winds and seas,
Beheld the British vessels brave,
Breasting the ocean at their ease,
Like sea-birds on their native wave:
Beheld the British vessels brave,
Breasting the ocean at their ease,
Like sea-birds on their native wave:
77
And now they cried, (because they found
Old England's fleet in all its pride,
While Spain's and France's hopes were drown'd,)
‘It was for this that Nelson died!’
Old England's fleet in all its pride,
While Spain's and France's hopes were drown'd,)
‘It was for this that Nelson died!’
He died, with many an hundred bold
And honest hearts as ever beat!—
But where's the British heart so cold
That would not die in such a feat?
And honest hearts as ever beat!—
But where's the British heart so cold
That would not die in such a feat?
Yes! by their memories! by all
The honours which their tomb surround!
Theirs was the noblest, happiest fall
Which ever mortal courage crown'd.
The honours which their tomb surround!
Theirs was the noblest, happiest fall
Which ever mortal courage crown'd.
78
Then bear them to their glorious grave
With no weak tears, no woman's sighs;
Theirs was the death-bed of the brave,
And manly be their obsequies.
With no weak tears, no woman's sighs;
Theirs was the death-bed of the brave,
And manly be their obsequies.
Haul not your colours from on high,
Nor down the flags of victory lower:—
Give every streamer to the sky,
Let all your conq'ring cannon roar;
Nor down the flags of victory lower:—
Give every streamer to the sky,
Let all your conq'ring cannon roar;
That every kindling soul may learn
How to resign its patriot breath;
And from a grateful country, earn
The triumphs of a trophied death.
How to resign its patriot breath;
And from a grateful country, earn
The triumphs of a trophied death.
79
1805.
IV.
Rear high the monumental stone!—
To other days, as to his own,
Belong the Hero's deathless deeds,
Who greatly lives, who bravely bleeds.
To other days, as to his own,
Belong the Hero's deathless deeds,
Who greatly lives, who bravely bleeds.
Not to a petty point of time
Or space, but wide to every clime
And age, his glorious fall bequeaths
Valour's sword, and victory's wreaths.
Or space, but wide to every clime
And age, his glorious fall bequeaths
Valour's sword, and victory's wreaths.
80
The rude but pious care of yore
Heap'd o'er the brave the mounded shore;
And still that mounded shore can tell
Where Hector and Achilles fell.
Heap'd o'er the brave the mounded shore;
And still that mounded shore can tell
Where Hector and Achilles fell.
There, over glory's earthly bed,
When many a wasting age had fled,
The world's Great Victor pour'd his pray'rs
For fame, and monuments like theirs.
When many a wasting age had fled,
The world's Great Victor pour'd his pray'rs
For fame, and monuments like theirs.
Happy the brave! whose sacred tomb
Itself averts the oblivious doom,
Bears on its breast unfading bays,
And gives eternity of praise!
Itself averts the oblivious doom,
Bears on its breast unfading bays,
And gives eternity of praise!
81
High, then, the monumental pile
Erect, for Nelson of the Nile!
Of Trafalgar, and Vincent's heights,
For Nelson of the hundred fights—
Erect, for Nelson of the Nile!
Of Trafalgar, and Vincent's heights,
For Nelson of the hundred fights—
For Him, alike on shore and surge,
Of proud Iberia's power the scourge;
And half around the sea-girt ball,
The hunter of the recreant Gaul.
Of proud Iberia's power the scourge;
And half around the sea-girt ball,
The hunter of the recreant Gaul.
Rear the tall shaft on some bold steep,
Whose base is buried in the deep;
But whose bright summit shines afar
O'er the blue ocean, like a star.
Whose base is buried in the deep;
But whose bright summit shines afar
O'er the blue ocean, like a star.
82
Such let it be, as o'er the bed
Of Nilus rears its lonely head;
That never shook at mortal might,
Till Nelson lanced the bolts of fight.
Of Nilus rears its lonely head;
That never shook at mortal might,
Till Nelson lanced the bolts of fight.
(What time the Orient, wrapt in fire,
Blazed, its own seamen's funeral pyre,
And, with explosive fury riven,
Sprang thundering to the midnight heaven.)
Blazed, its own seamen's funeral pyre,
And, with explosive fury riven,
Sprang thundering to the midnight heaven.)
Around it, when the raven night
Shades ocean, fire the beacon-light;
And let it, thro' the tempest, flame
The star of safety as of fame.
Shades ocean, fire the beacon-light;
And let it, thro' the tempest, flame
The star of safety as of fame.
83
Thither, as o'er the deep below
The seaman seeks his country's foe,
His emulative eye shall roll,
And Nelson's spirit fill his soul.
The seaman seeks his country's foe,
His emulative eye shall roll,
And Nelson's spirit fill his soul.
Thither, shall youthful heroes climb,
The Nelsons of an after-time,
And round that sacred altar swear
Such glory and such graves to share.
The Nelsons of an after-time,
And round that sacred altar swear
Such glory and such graves to share.
Raise then, imperial Britain, raise
The trophied pillar of his praise;
And worthy be its towering pride,
Of those that live, of him that died!
The trophied pillar of his praise;
And worthy be its towering pride,
Of those that live, of him that died!
84
Worthy of Nelson of the Nile!
Of Nelson of the cloud-capped Isle,
Of Trafalgar and Vincent's heights,
Of Nelson of the hundred fights!
Of Nelson of the cloud-capped Isle,
Of Trafalgar and Vincent's heights,
Of Nelson of the hundred fights!
| Talavera | |