We hailed the morning star
Above the Spanish shore;
Our cannon's random roar
Then woke black Trafalgar.
Where our foes
Lay in the crescent bay
We watched the fog bank gray
Melt silently away
As the sun uprose.
Then rolled the deep alarm—
The foeman's call to arm;
And swiftly from our van
There pass'd from man to man,
"They will fight."
With hearts that beat to chase
We caught the growing gale,
And 'neath a press of sail
Bore up to take our place

On the right.
Nelson, our admiral then,
Greatest of all seamen,
We cheered to death again
As he pass'd;
'Round toward the land
We tacked and stood about—
The hills rang to our shout
As lifted and blew out
His last command
From the mast.
Then flash'd our full broadside,
Roaring across the tide,
As crashing side by side
We broke their line;
Thro' rolling clouds of smoke
Burst in our prows of oak;
Their tall sides bent and broke
Like pine.
As died the stagger'd blast
The sails dropt to the mast;
That broadside was their last!

One more to clip her wing!
Quick away!
Tigers our boarders spring,
Cutlass to cutlass ring,
In the fray.
We heard no quarter call:
A man stood every Gaul!
Useless, their flag must fall
That day.
The fight thus well begun,
We paused a breathing space;
Each soul leapt to a face
As Nelson in his grace
Signaled "Well done!"
Staying the tott'ring mast
We rounded to the blast,
Grappled the next that pass'd—
A huge Spaniard.
No room to lift the ports:
Black gun to gun retorts—
Lip locked to lip,
Each man a firmer grip

On his lanyard.
To save this pride of Spain
A Frenchman joined the fight;
Then roaring in our might
We smote him with our right
Twice, and again.
"Cease! Cease!" our Captain cries.
"She lies
A silent wreck!"
Three times we spared that foe,
Yet from her came the blow
That laid our hero low
On the deck.
What more for me to say,
Save thro' the fatal fray
We marked the hours that day
With cheers!
Our foes struck one by one;
Yet when the fight was done
We saw the misty sun
Set thro' our tears.
O England, strong yet free,

The crown we bear to thee,
Laurels for victory!
Weave cypress in the wreath:
For he to whom thou gave
The keeping of the wave,
Nelson, the true, the brave,
Has struck his flag to death.
Oh, men of hero race,
In what a fitting place
To set his conquering star!—
Amid the battle's roar,
Under the rolling shore
Where rises wild and hoar

Cape Trafalgar.