By each gun the lighted brand,
In a bold determined hand,

And the Prince of all the land
Led them on.

Like leviathans afloat,

II.

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

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.

III.

But the might of England flush'd

To anticipate the scene;

And her van the fleeter rush'd

O'er the deadly space between.

"Hearts of oak!" our captain cried; when each gun

From its adamantine lips.

Spread a death-shade round the ships,

Like the hurricane eclipse

Of the sun.

IV.

Again! again! again!

And the havoc did not slack,

Till a feeble cheer the Dane

To our cheering sent us back ;

Their shots along the deep slowly boom :

Then ceased-and all is wail,
As they strike the shatter'd sail;
Or, in conflagration pale,
Light the gloom.