| |
| ONE day of dreadful occupation more, | |
| Ere England’s gallant ships | |
| Shall, of their beauty, pomp, and power disrobed, | |
| Like sea-birds on the sunny main, | |
| Rock idly in the port. | 5 |
| |
| One day of dreadful occupation more! | |
| A work of righteousness, | |
| Yea, of sublimest mercy, must be done: | |
| England will break the oppressor’s chain, | |
| And set the captives free. | 10 |
| |
| Red Cross of England, which all shores have seen | |
| Triumphantly displayed, | |
| Thou sacred banner of the glorious Isle, | |
| Known wheresoever keel hath cut | |
| The navigable deep,— | 15 |
| |
| Ne’er didst thou float more proudly o’er the storm | |
| Of havoc and of death, | |
| Than when, resisting fiercely, but in vain, | |
| Algiers her moony standard lowered, | |
| And signed the conqueror’s law. | 20 |
| |
| Oh, if the grave were sentient, as these Moors | |
| In erring credence hold; | |
| And if the victims of captivity | |
| Could in the silent tomb have heard | |
| The thunder of the fight,— | 25 |
| |
| Sure their rejoicing dust upon that day | |
| Had heaved the oppressive soil, | |
| And earth been shaken like the mosques and towers, | |
| When England on those guilty walls | |
| Her fiery vengeance sent. | 30 |
| |
| Seldom hath victory given a joy like this,— | |
| When the delivered slave | |
| Revisits once again his own dear home, | |
| And tells of all his sufferings past, | |
| And blesses Exmouth’s name. | 35 |
| |
| Far, far and wide along the Italian shores, | |
| That holy joy extends; | |
| Sardinian mothers pay their vows fulfilled; | |
| And hymns are heard beside thy banks, | |
| O Fountain Arethuse! | 40 |
| |
| Churches shall blaze with lights and ring with praise, | |
| And deeper strains shall rise | |
| From many an overflowing heart to Heaven; | |
| Nor will they in their prayers forget | |
| The hand that set them free. | 45 |
| |
