Recitative. DARK is the night, and deep and lowering | |
| Hang its shadows o’er the main; | |
| On the billow awful towering, | |
| Yonder glide the warrior train. | |
| Not a star betrays their motions, | 5 |
| Hush’d, unseen, they hold their way | |
| Sullen as the calm of ocean, | |
| At the lurid close of day. | |
| Lo! the fleet with valour teeming, | |
| Dimly skirts the westward sky; | 10 |
| Hope and doubt alternate beaming | |
| From the war-instructed eye. | |
| Preble there, serene, presiding, | |
| Distant marks the floating death, | |
| Toward the castle darkly gliding, | 15 |
| Aided by the breeze’s breath. | |
| |
Air. Chief of daring! thine is glory | |
| Far beyond the reach of Fate: | |
| Slain—immortalized in story, | |
| Living—valorous and great. | 20 |
| Thine the calm, heroic spirit, | |
| Firm to act, and bold to dare, | |
| Or to grasp the meed of merit, | |
| Or the hero’s grave to share! | |
| |
Recitative. Now the bark, in distance fading, | 25 |
| Glooms beneath the turret-steep, | |
| Not a sound the ear invading, | |
| Save the murmur of the deep. | |
| Surely she has gain’d her station, | |
| Lost in distance and in gloom: | 30 |
| ’Tis the pause of expectation— | |
| ’Tis the silence of the tomb. | |
| |
Air. Warriors! rue the gale that bore them: | |
| Rue the gloom that wrapp’d the skies: | |
| Never shall the sun restore them | 35 |
| To your valour-weeping eyes! | |
| Shield them, Heaven, amid the explosion: | |
| Quickly waft them from the shore. | |
| Who can bear the swift concussion? | |
| Who can list the sudden roar? | 40 |
| |
Recitative. See, the flash! one moment shining, | |
| Ocean, earth, and heaven illume! | |
| Now, again, ’tis lost—resigning | |
| Heaven, and earth, and sea to gloom. | |
| Horror all, and wild commotion— | 45 |
| Shrieks of millions from the shore— | |
| Gleaming on the sulphurous ocean, | |
| Cannons burst with rapid roar: | |
| Atlas, trembling, hears the thunder | |
| Bellow through his shores below; | 50 |
| Sees his tawny sons of plunder, | |
| Frighted, fly without a foe. | |
| |
Air, (by the Turks.) Allah! whence this dire undoing | |
| Rushing through the troubled air? | |
| Save, O save thy race from ruin! | 55 |
| Shield the faithful from despair! | |
| |
Recitative. O’er the scene, at length, reposing, | |
| Wrapp’d in desolation’s reign, | |
| Morn, reluctantly disclosing, | |
| Faintly gilds the eastward plain. | 60 |
| |
Chorus, (by the Crew.) Rise in haste, O God of splendour! | |
| Valour bids thee swiftly rise: | |
| Triumph to the deeds we’ll render | |
| Veil’d by midnight from our eyes. | |
| Hail, the wave that, to our wishes, | 65 |
| Proudly wafts the daring few! | |
| Hail, the dawn that bears, propitious, | |
| Fame and Somers to his crew! | |
| |
Recitative. Morning breaks—but, ah, to languish! | |
| Lurid was the light it shed | 70 |
| O’er the inquiring eye of anguish; | |
| For the warrior train are fled. | |
| |
Air, First. Gallant warriors! well attended | |
| Rush’d your valour to its grave; | |
| Many a foe, convulsive rended, | 75 |
| Grimly sank beneath the wave. | |
| Well aveng’d, ere long, you’ll number | |
| Victims, weltering pale and low: | |
| Many a Turk, in icy slumbers, | |
| Soon shall knit the savage brow. | 80 |
| Generous youths your story telling, | |
| Though a sigh suspend the breath; | |
| Every nerve to frenzy swelling, | |
| Claims a victory from death. | |
| |
Air, Second. Heralds of your country’s glory, | 85 |
| Dawning on the path of time, | |
| Age shall kindle at your story, | |
| Cherish’d oft in future rhyme. | |
| For, the bard on Fame attending, | |
| Shall, enraptured by the tale, | 90 |
| O’er his harp of legends bending, | |
| Give your glories to the gale. | |
| Beauty too, a wreath bestowing, | |
| Bids it flourish round your bier— | |
| Ever in remembrance glowing, | 95 |
| Ever water’d by her tear. | |
| |
Air, Third. Often shall the Arab wander | |
| From his hills of sunny sand, | |
| On your deeds of fame to ponder, | |
| Circled by his listening band— | 100 |
| “Perish’d here,” he’ll say, “the stranger, | |
| When the star of night was high: | |
| Like thee, Christian, braving danger, | |
| Be it mine like thee to die!” | |
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