"Ye are brothers! ye are men!

And we conquer but to save:—

So peace instead of death let us bring;
But yield, proud foe, thy fleet,

With the crews, at England's feet,
And make submission meet

To our King."

VI.

Then Denmark bless'd our chief,
That he gave her wounds repose;
And the sounds of joy and grief
From her people wildly rose,

As death withdrew his shades from the day;
While the sun look'd smiling bright

O'er a wide and woeful sight,

Where the fires of funeral light

Died away.

VII.

Now joy, Old England, raise!
For the tidings of thy might,
By the festal cities' blaze,

Whilst the wine-cup shines in light;
And yet amidst that joy and uproar,
Let us think of them that sleep,
Full many a fathom deep,

By thy wild and stormy steep,
Elsinore !

VIII.

Brave hearts! to Britain's pride

Once so faithful and so true,
On the deck of fame that died;-
With the gallant good Riou:

Soft sigh the winds of Heaven o'er their grave!
While the billow mournful rolls,

And the mermaid's song condoles,
Singing glory to the souls

NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried d;

C