5
The spirits of your fathers
Shall start from ev’ry wave;
For the deck it was their field of fame,
And the ocean was their grave!
Where (Blake the boast of freedom) fell
Your manly hearts shall glow,
As you sweep thro’ the deep
While the stormy tempests blow—
When the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy tempests blow!
Britannia needs no bulwark,
No towers along the steep;
Her march is o’er the mountain-waves,
Her home is on the deep:
With thunders from her native oak
She quells the floods below,
As they roar on the shore
When the stormy tempests blow!
When the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy tempests blow!
The meteor flag of England
Must yet terrific burn,
Till danger’s troubled night depart,
And the star of peace return.
Then, then, ye Ocean warriors,
Our song and feast shall flow
To the fame of your name,
When the tempests cease to blow—
When the fiery fight is heard no more,
And the tempests cease to blow.
