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COPENHAGEN |
291 |
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In arms the Danish shore
Proudly shone : By each gun the lighted brand In a bold, determined hand, And the Prince of all the land
Led them on. |
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For Denmark here had drawn
All her might: From her battleships so vast She had hewn away the mast, And at anchor, to the last
Bade them fight. |
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Another noble fleet
Of their line Rode out; but these were nought To the batteries which they brought Like Leviathans afloat
In the brine. |
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It was ten of Thursday 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— |
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Ere a first and fatal round
Shook the flood. Every Dane looked out that day, Like the red wolt on his prey ; And he swore his flag to sway
O'er our blood. |
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Not such a mind possessed
England's tar; 'Twas the love of noble game Set his oaken heart on flame— For to him 'twas all the same,
Sport and war.
U 2 |
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