"Ye are brothers! ye are men! And we conquer but to save:— So peace instead of death let us bring; With the crews, at England's feet, To our King." VI. Then Denmark bless'd our chief, As death withdrew his shades from the day; O'er a wide and woeful sight, Where the fires of funeral light Died away. VII. Now joy, Old England, raise! Whilst the wine-cup shines in light; By thy wild and stormy steep, VIII. Brave hearts! to Britain's pride Once so faithful and so true, Soft sigh the winds of Heaven o'er their grave! And the mermaid's song condoles, |