Hark—how the church-bells thundering harmony

Stuns the glad ear! tidings of joy have come,

Good tidings of great joy! two gallant ships

Met on the element,—they met, they fought

A desperate fight!—good tidings of great joy!

Old England triumphed! yet another day

Of glory for the ruler of the waves!

For those who fell, ’twas in their country’s cause,

They have their passing paragraphs of praise

And are forgotten.

There was one who died

In that day’s glory, whose obscurer name

No proud historian’s page will chronicle.

Peace to his honest soul! I read his name,

’Twas in the list of slaughter, and blest God

The sound was not familiar to mine ear.

But it was told me after that this man

Was one whom lawful violence [10] had forced

From his own home and wife and little ones,

Who by his labour lived; that he was one

Whose uncorrupted heart could keenly feel

A husband’s love, a father’s anxiousness,

That from the wages of his toil he fed

The distant dear ones, and would talk of them

At midnight when he trod the silent deck

With him he valued, talk of them, of joys

That he had known—oh God! and of the hour

When they should meet again, till his full heart

His manly heart at last would overflow

Even like a child’s with very tenderness.

Peace to his honest spirit! suddenly

It came, and merciful the ball of death,

For it came suddenly and shattered him,

And left no moment’s agonizing thought

On those he loved so well.

He ocean deep

Now lies at rest. Be Thou her comforter

Who art the widow’s friend! Man does not know

What a cold sickness made her blood run back

When first she heard the tidings of the fight;

Man does not know with what a dreadful hope

She listened to the names of those who died,

Man does not know, or knowing will not heed,

With what an agony of tenderness

She gazed upon her children, and beheld

His image who was gone. Oh God! be thou

Her comforter who art the widow’s friend!

[10] The person alluded to was pressed into the service