Song - Upon The Admiration Of The Valour And Amiable Qualities Of Lord Nelson, Expressed By Junot, Now Duke Of Abrantes, Who, By The Chances Of War, Was For A Short Time The British Hero's Prisoner.

A wreath from an immortal bough
Should deck that gen'rous victor's brow,
Who hears his captive's grateful praise
Augment the thanks his country pays;
For him the minstrel's song shall flow,
The canvass breathe, the marble glow.

John Carr

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John Carr

Lines Written At Kilkenny, On The Theatricals Of That City.

John Carr, Simple Poetry

Epigram, On Winning A Young Lady's Money At Cards.

John Carr, Simple Poetry

Lines To Health, Upon The Recovery Of A Friend From A Dangerous Illness.

John Carr, Simple Poetry

Lines To Miss L ---- D ---- .

John Carr, Simple Poetry

English

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Dirge Of Nelson

Toll Nelson's knell! a soul more brave
Ne'er triumphed on the green-sea wave!
Sad o'er the hero's honoured grave,
    Toll Nelson's knell!

The ball of Death unerring flew;
His cheek has lost its ardent hue;
He sinks, amid his gallant crew!
    Toll Nelson's knell!

Yet lift, brave chief, thy dying eyes;
Hark! loud huzzas around thee rise;
Aloft the flag of conquest flies!
    The day is won!

The day is won, peace to the brave!
But whilst the joyous streamers wave,
We'll think upon the victor's grave!
    Peace to the brave!

William Lisle Bowles

On The Death Of Lord Nelson.

Swift through the land while Fame transported flies,
And shouts triumphant shake the illumin'd skies;
Britannia, bending o'er her dauntless prows,
With laurels thickening round her blazon'd brows,
In joy dejected, sees her triumph crost,
Exults in Victory won, but mourns the Victor lost.
Immortal Nelson! still with fond amaze,
Thy glorious deeds each British eye surveys,
Beholds thee still, on conquer'd floods afar:
Fate's flaming shaft! the thunderbolt of war!
Hurl'd from thy hands, Britannia's vengeance roars,
And bloody billows stain the hostile shores;
Thy sacred ire Confed'rate Kingdoms braves
And 'whelms their Navies in Sepulchral waves!

--Graced with each attribute which Heaven supplies
To Godlike Chiefs: humane, intrepid, wise;
His Nation's bulwa...

Thomas Gent

On The Death Of Nelson.

Swift through the land while Fame transported flies,
And shouts triumphant shake th' illumined skies;
Britannia, bending o'er her dauntless prows,
With laurels thickening round her blazon'd brows,
In joy dejected, sees her triumph cross'd,
Exults in Victory won, but mourns the Victor lost.
Immortal NELSON! still with fond amaze
Thy glorious deed each British eye surveys,
Beholds thee still, on conquer'd floods afar:
Fate's flaming shaft! the thunderbolt of war!
Hurl'd from thy hands, Britannia's vengeance roars,
And bloody billows stain the hostile shores:
Thy sacred ire Confed'rate Kingdoms braves,
And 'whelms their Navies in Sepulchral waves!
--Graced with each attribute which Heaven supplies
To Godlike Chiefs: humane, intrepid, wise:
His Nation's Bulwark, a...

Thomas Gent

Ode for Trafalgar Day, 1905

"Partial firing continued until 4.30, when a victory having been reported to the Right Honourable Lord Viscount Nelson, K.B., and Commander-in-Chief, he then died of his wound."--Log of the Victory, October 21, 1805.


    England! to-day let fire be in thine eyes
        And in thy heart the throb of leaping guns;
    Crown in thy streets the deed that never dies,
        And tell their fathers' fame to all thy sons!
    Behold! behold! on that unchanging sea
        Where day behind Trafalgar rises pale,
            How dread the storm to be
            Drifts up with ominous breath
        Cloud after towering cloud of billowy sail
            Full charged with thunder and the bolts of death.

    Yet when the noon is past, and thy delight,
        More d...

Henry John Newbolt

Lines To Lady Warren, On The Departure Of Sir John Borlase Warren, K.B. To Take The Command Of A Squadron.

Oh! why does sorrow shade thy face,
Where mind and beauty vie with grace?
Say, dost thou for thy hero weep,
Who gallantly, upon the deep,
Is gone to tell the madd'ning foe,
Tho' vict'ry laid our Nelson low,
We still have chiefs as greatly brave,
Proudly triumphant on the wave?
Dear to thy Country shall thou be,
Fair mourner! and her sympathy
Is thine; for, in the war's alarms,
Thou gav'st thine hero from thine arms;
And only ask'd to sigh alone,
To look to heav'n, and weep him gone.
Oh! soon shall all thy sorrow cease,
And, to thine aching bosom, peace
Shall quick return; - another tear
To love and joy, supremely dear,
Shall give thy gen'rous mind relief -
That tear shall gem the laurel leaf.

John Carr

Battle Of The Baltic

Of Nelson and the North
Sing the glorious day's renown,
When to battle fierce came forth
All the might of Denmark's crown,
And her arms along the deep proudly shone;
By each gun the lighted brand
In a bold determined hand,
And the Prince of all the land
Led them on.

Like leviathans afloat
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.

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 captains cried, when each gun
From its adamantine lips

Thomas Campbell