In England high and low degree

Are equally delighted. 'Tis in the mouth of all one meets,

All praise this noble service; And ballad-singers in the streets

Roars, Admirable Jervis !

They say that he's become a lord,

At his Majesty's desire; He always was a king aboard,

How can they lift him higher ? 'Tis noble, that must be confess’d,

And suits such worthy service; But the title he'll be known by best

Will be, Gallant Admiral Jeryis !

To Thompson let the bumbo pass,

Grey, Parker, Walgrave, Caulder, Nelson that took St. Nicholas

My timbers, how he mauld her! But we a freight of grog might start,

To drink all on that service ;Here's blessing on each noble heart

That fought with valiant Jervis !

And bless the king, and bless the queen,

And bless the family royal ;
Let Frenchmen come, 'twill soon be seen

That British hearts are loyal.
Let Dutch and Spaniards join their hosts,

They'll see some pretty service; Zounds ! who's afraid, while England boasts

Such Admirals as Jervis ?


OME, messmates, rejoice! for old England,

so glorious A victory never was seen: We've often o'er five, nine, eleven, been

victorious, But now we have taken nineteen: Yet 'twas earn'd by a wound that for years will want

healingA wound, that on sea or on shore Every Briton shall mourn with one heart and one

feelingOur hero, great Nelson’s no more!

I sail'd with him often in pretty hard service,

More than once saw him wounded, and smile : I was there when he gain’d such renown under Jervis,

And he pepper'd the French on the Nile. I heard his last words, that so grieved each bystander,

Words sounding so mournful and sweet, 'Twas his “ Love and farewell”-Damme! there's a

commander !
• To each brother tar in the fleet."

But he's gone! and so nobly the French and the

Spaniards Shall be lather’d, fore, aft, back, and sides, That we'll not leave a rope from the shrouds to the

lanyards, For in fighting we'll work double tides.

And the notion's a right one ;-oh! where's such

another? We've lost—why, the 'counts without end ! The King a great subject, each sailor a brother,

And every Briton a friend !

Not that one of our leaders to honour wants pressing ;

For wherever our jack is unfurld, 'Tis on all hands allow'd, as this country's best

blessing, England's tars are the pride of the world. See the diff'rence in men !Nelson, manly and

hearty, Is mourn'd through the land by each voice; Had the shot been commission'd to strike Bonyparte,

Oh, how every land would rejoice!




E the great twenty-first of October

In the mem'rable year eighteen

hundred and five;
May each hero that fell his true praise be awarded,
While one single oak on this isle shall survive.
Nelson led the gallant van!

Nelson France and Spain defied;
Nelson spoke—the fight began;

Nelson, matchless hero ! died.
Commemorate this first of men !

Hang laurels on the cypress-bough!
Each Briton did his duty then-

Let Britons do their duty now!

The bold Royal Sovereign, with best satisfaction,

The admiring fleet saw all others outstrip! Cried our hero, “How gallantly first into action That fine fellow, Collingwood, carries his ship!” And now the Spanish line was broke;

Destruction all around was hurld;
The Vict'ry's fire involved in smoke

The largest ship in all the world,
The British lion left his den;

And from the taffrail to the prow
Each Briton did his duty then-

Let Britons do their duty now!

Ne'er with such fatal fury did devastation rattle! Yards, masts, and rigging, reeling hulls, and every

hold, Felt English vengeance, as, through this dreadful

Our murd'rous double-shotted broadsides told.
At length a cloud involved the day!

A cloud that might to all impart
Dread fear, could Britons know dismay-

A bullet reach'd our hero's heart!
And now the battle raged again;

Revenge was seated on each brow:
Each Briton did his duty then-

Let Britons do their duty now!

Fierce rage and noble vengeance each bosom

inspiring, Dress’d out in grisly terrors, pervaded the decks; And while the wondering Fates were each hero

admiring, Eighteen crippled essels were little more than


And now, from friends and country torn,

Great Nelson's spirit takes its way, On wings of fame and glory borne

To mansions of eternal day! Commemorate this first of men !

Hang laurels on the cypress-bough; Each Briton did his duty then

Let Britons do their duty now!


H, hark! the signals round the coast

Proclaim the great event
That gave all hearts to grieve and boast,

To joy and to lament.
Great Nelson's corse arrives in sight,

Victorious e'en in death;
Who, living, did his country right,

Who, dying, gave her breath.

For did not fame the tidings tell

That laid him on his bier,
The foe whom nothing could repel,

Had ventured to come here:
But now may peace, that balm devout,

Be laid to every breast;
His mighty deeds have fear and doubt

For ever set at rest!

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