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SONGS AND BALLADS
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. |
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All round, outlandish cries
Loudly broke; But a nobler note was rung When the British, old and young, To their bands of music sung
' Hearts of Oak !' |
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Cheer ! cheer ! from park and tower,
London town ! When the King shall ride in state From St. James's royal gate, And to all his peers relate
Our renown ! |
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The bells shall ring! the day
Shall not close, But a blaze of cities bright Shall illuminate the night, And the wine-cup shine in light
As it flows. |
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Yes—yet amid the joy
And uproar, Let us think of them that sleep Full many a fathom deep, All beside thy rocky steep,
Elsinore ! |
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Brave hearts, to Britain's weal
Once so true! Though death has quenched your flame, Yet immortal be your name ! For ye died the death of fame
With Riou. |
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