aughty springs,
You might know them for the kings
Of the deep.

'Twas the _Edgar_ first that smote
Denmark's line
As her flag the foremost soared,
Murray stamped his foot on board,
And an hundred cannons roared
At the sign.

Three cheers of all the fleet
Sung Huzza!
Then from centre, rear, and van,
Every captain, every man,
With a lion's heart began
To the fray.

Oh, dark grew soon the heavens--
For each gun,
From its adamantine lips,
Spread a death-shade round the ships,
Like a hurricane eclipse
Of the sun.

Three hours the raging fire
Did not slack;
But the fourth, their signals drear
Of distress and wreck appear,
And the Dane a feeble cheer
Sent us back.

The voice decayed; their shots
Slowly boom.
They ceased--and all is wail,
As they strike the shattered sail,
Or in conflagration pale
Light the gloom.

Oh, death--it was a sight
Filled our eyes!
But we rescued many a crew
From the waves of scarlet hue,
Ere the cross of England flew
O'er her prize.

Why ceased not here the strife,
Oh, ye brave?
Why bleeds old England's band
By the fire of Danish land,
That smites the very hand
Stretched to save?

But the Britons sent to warn
Denmark's town:
Proud foes, let vengeance sleep!
If another chain-shot sweep--
All your navy in the deep
Shall go down.

Then, peace instead of death
Let us bring!
If you'll yield your conquered fleet,
With the crews, at England's feet,
And make submission meet
To our King.

The Dane returned, a truce
Glad to bring:
He would yield his conquered fleet,
With the crews, at England's feet,
And make submission meet
To our King.

Then death withdrew his pall
From the day;
And the sun looked smiling bright
On a wide and woeful sight
Where the fires of funeral light
Died away.

Yet, all amidst her wrecks
And her gore,
Proud Denmark blest our chief
That he gave her wounds relief,
And the sounds of joy and grief
Filled her shore.

All round, outlandish cries
Loudly broke;
But a nobler note was rung
When the British, old and young,
To their