THIS trophy bore, near Calpe’s tide, | |
| The British standard, floating wide, | |
| And led our gallant fleet with pride | |
| Immortal fame to find; | |
| Around its base were heroes lying, | 5 |
| Their glory with existence buying, | |
| And Nelson, wounded, faint, and dying, | |
| With yet unconquered mind. | |
| |
| Red flashes from the wreathing smoke | |
| Athwart the gloom as lightning broke, | 10 |
| When Albion’s thundering broadsides woke | |
| Iberia’s rocks afar; | |
| At morn two nations for our foes | |
| All redolent of life arose, | |
| But thousands, ere the evening’s close, | 15 |
| Lay dead at Trafalgar. | |
| |
| ’T was then, O France! in homage due | |
| Thy banner sank, of triple hue: | |
| And (shame to Andalusia’s view!) | |
| The flag of Spain was furled. | 20 |
| St. George’s ensign reigned alone; | |
| Nor till that hour his fate was known, | |
| The chief who made the day our own | |
| And sought a better world. | |
| |
| When, far beyond the reach of art, | 25 |
| Fond thoughts were busy at his heart, | |
| And whispered it was hard to part | |
| From glory, love, and life; | |
| The shades of death around him fell, | |
| But, ere he breathed his last farewell, | 30 |
| He heard the shout of conquest swell, | |
| And terminate the strife. | |
| |
| True friendship lives beyond the grave, | |
| Preserves the memory of the brave, | |
| And prompts a naval King to save | 35 |
| This record of his fame; | |
| That long as Britain shall endure, | |
| Within her circling waves secure, | |
| Her warrior sons, and patriots pure, | |
| May honor Nelson’s name. | 40 |
| |
| Some yet survive his toils who shared, | |
| Whose lives the God of Battles spared, | |
| Though death in every form they dared, | |
| Ere rose the vesper star; | |
| And all who saw that glorious day, | 45 |
| Near fifty years now passed away, | |
| May proudly to their children say, | |
| “We fought at Trafalgar!” | |
| |
