By each gun the lighted brand, And the Prince of all the land Like leviathans afloat, II. Lay their bulwarks on the brine; It was ten of April morn by the chime: There was silence deep as death; And the boldest held his breath, 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, |