Page:Landon in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book 1837.pdf/16

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! will they sweep the channels, And brave us as they go! There’s no place in English annals For the triumph of a foe.

Thus spoke the English admiral, His hand was on his sword; Hurrah! was the sole answer From every man on board.

The Dutch came o’er the ocean, As if it were their home, With a slow and gliding motion The stately vessels come.

The sky is blue above them, But ere an hour be past, The shadows of the battle Will over heaven be cast

They meet—it is in thunder, The thunder of the gun; Fire rends the smoke asunder, The battle is begun.

He stands amid his seamen, Our Admiral of the White, And guides the strife more calmly, Than of that strife I write.

For over the salt water The grape-shot sweeps around; The decks are red with slaughter, The dead are falling round.