Come from deep glen, and
From mountain so rocky;
The war-pipe and pennon
Are at Inverlocky.
Come every hill-plaid, and

True heart that wears one,
Come every steel blade, and
Strong hand that bears one.

Leave untended the herd,
The flock without shelter;
Leave the corpse uninterr'd,
The bride at the altar;
Leave the deer, leave the steer,
Leave nets and barges :
Come with your fighting gear,
Broadswords and targes.

Come as the winds come, when

Forests are rended,

Come as the waves come, when

Navies are stranded : Faster come, faster come, Faster and faster,

Chief, vassal, page and groom,

Tenant and master.

Fast they come, fast they come;

See how they gather ! Wide waves the eagle plume

Blended with heather.

Cast your plaids, draw your blades, Forward each man set!

Pibroch of Donuil Dhu

Knell for the onset !

Sir W. Scott

A

CCV

WET sheet and a flowing sea,

A wind that follows fast

And fills the white and rustling sail
And bends the gallant mast;
And bends the gallant mast, my boys,

While like the eagle free

Away the good ship flies, and leaves
Old England on the lee.

O for a soft and gentle wind!
I heard a fair one cry;

But give to me the snoring breeze
And white waves heaving high;
And white waves heaving high, my lads,
The good ship tight and free-
The world of waters is our home,
And merry men are we.

There's tempest in yon hornéd moon,

And lightning in yon cloud;
But hark the music, mariners!
The wind is piping loud;
The wind is piping loud, my boys,

The lightning flashes free

While the hollow oak our palace is,

Our heritage the sea.

A. Cunningham

CCVI

E Mariners of England

YE

That guard our native seas!

Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, The battle and the breeze!

Your glorious standard launch again

To match another foe:

And sweep through the deep,

While the stormy winds do blow;

While the battle rages loud and long

And the stormy winds do blow.

The spirits of your fathers

Shall start from every wave

For the deck it was their field of fame,
And Ocean was their grave:
Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell
Your manly hearts shall glow,
As ye sweep through the deep,

While the stormy winds do blow;
While the battle rages loud and long
And the stormy winds do blow.

Britannia needs no bulwarks

No towers along the steep;

Her march is o'er the mountain waves,

Her home is on the deep.

With thunders from her native oak

She quells the floods below

As they roar on the shore,

-

When the stormy winds do blow;
When the battle rages loud and long,

And the stormy winds do blow.

The meteor flag of England
Shall yet terrific burn;

Till danger's troubled night depart
And the star of peace return.
Then, then, ye ocean-warriors!
Our song and feast shall flow
To the fame of your name,

When the storm has ceased to blow;

When the fiery fight is heard no more,

And the storm has ceased to blow.

T. Campbell

CCVII

BATTLE OF THE BALTIC

F Nelson and the North

OF

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

Spread a death-shade round the ships,

Like the hurricane eclipse

Of the sun.

Again! again! again!

And the havoc did not slack,

Till a feeble cheer the Dane

To our cheering sent us back;

Their shots along the deep slowly boom :

Then ceased and all is wail,

As they strike the shatter'd sail;
Or in conflagration pale

Light the gloom.

Out spoke the victor then

As he hail'd them o'er the wave,
'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.'

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