Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
England: Vols. I–IV. 1876–79.
The Guard-Chamber
By Anonymous
T
The British standard, floating wide,
And led our gallant fleet with pride
Immortal fame to find;
Around its base were heroes lying,
Their glory with existence buying,
And Nelson, wounded, faint, and dying,
With yet unconquered mind.
Athwart the gloom as lightning broke,
When Albion’s thundering broadsides woke
Iberia’s rocks afar;
At morn two nations for our foes
All redolent of life arose,
But thousands, ere the evening’s close,
Lay dead at Trafalgar.
Thy banner sank, of triple hue:
And (shame to Andalusia’s view!)
The flag of Spain was furled.
St. George’s ensign reigned alone;
Nor till that hour his fate was known,
The chief who made the day our own
And sought a better world.
Fond thoughts were busy at his heart,
And whispered it was hard to part
From glory, love, and life;
The shades of death around him fell,
But, ere he breathed his last farewell,
He heard the shout of conquest swell,
And terminate the strife.
Preserves the memory of the brave,
And prompts a naval King to save
This record of his fame;
That long as Britain shall endure,
Within her circling waves secure,
Her warrior sons, and patriots pure,
May honor Nelson’s name.
Whose lives the God of Battles spared,
Though death in every form they dared,
Ere rose the vesper star;
And all who saw that glorious day,
Near fifty years now passed away,
May proudly to their children say,
“We fought at Trafalgar!”