While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.

Ye mariners of England, That guard our native seas; Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, The battle and the breeze!

Britannia needs no bulwarks, No towers along the steep; Her march is o'er the mountain waves, Her home is on the deep.

Cease, every joy, to glimmer on my mind, But leave, oh! leave the light of Hope behind! What though my winged hours of bliss have been Like angels visits, few …