The Echo, Song CXIV

Thursday in the morn, the nineteenth of May, Recorded be forever the famous ninety-two! Brave Russell did discern. by dawn of day, The lofty sails of France advancing now; All hands aloft, aloft—let English valor shine; Let fly a culverin, a signal for the line: Let every man supply his gun; Follow me, And you'll see That the battle will soon be won.

Tourville on the main triumphant roll'd, To meet rhe gallant Russell in combat of the deep; He led a noble train of heroes bold, To sink the English Admiral and his fleet. Now ev'ry valiant mind to victory doth aspire; The bloody fight's begun, and the sea is all on fire; And mighty Fate stood looking on; Whilst a flood, All of blood, Fill'd the scuppers of the Rising Sun.

Sulphur, smoke and fire, disturbing the air, With thunder and wonder, affright the gallic shore: The regulated band stood trembling near, To see their lofty streamers, now no more; At six o'clock, the Red, the smiling victor led, To give the second blow—the fatal overthrow: Now death and horrow equal reign; Now they cry, Run or die: British calors ride the vanquish'd main.

See, they fly amaz'd thro' rocks and sands; One danger they grasp at to shun the greater fate; In vain they cry for aid to weeping lands: The nymphs and sea gods mourn their loft estate: Forever more adieu, thou dazzling Rising Sun, From thy untimely and thy master's fate begun: Enough, thou mighty god of war! Now we sing, Bless the King! Let us drink to every British tar,