ng, and ready for death as for life.
--O in that interval grim, ere the furies of slaughter embrace,
Thrills o'er each man some far echo of England; some glance of some face!
--Faces gazing seaward through tears from the ocean-girt shore;
Faces that ne'er can be gazed on again till the death-pang is o'er. . . .
Lone in his cabin the Admiral kneeling, and all his great heart
As a child's to the mother, goes forth to the loved one, who bade him
depart
. . . O not for death, but glory! her smile would welcome him home!
--Louder and thicker the thunderbolts fall:--and silent they come.

As when beyond Dongola the lion, whom hunters attack,
Plagued by their darts from afar, leaps in, dividing them back;
So between Spaniard and Frenchman the _Victory_ wedged with a shout,
Gun against gun; a cloud from her decks and lightning went out;
Iron hailing of pitiless death from the sulphury smoke;
Voices hoarse and parch'd, and blood from invisible stroke.
Each man stood to his work, though his mates fell smitten around,
As an oak of the wood, while his fellow, flame-shatter'd, besplinters the
ground:--
Gluttons of danger for England, but sparing the foe as he lay;
For the spirit of Nelson was on them, and each was Nelson that day.

'She has struck!'--he shouted--'She burns, the _Redoubtable_! Save
whom we can,
Silence our guns':--for in him the woman was great in the man,
In that heroic heart each drop girl-gentle and pure,
Dying by those he spared;--and now Death's triumph was sure!
From the deck the smoke-wreath clear'd, and the foe set his rifle in
rest,
Dastardly aiming, where Nelson stood forth, with the stars on his
breast,--
'In honour I gain'd them, in honour I die with them' . . . Then, in his
place,
Fell . . . 'Hardy! 'tis over; but let them not know': and he cover'd his
face.
Silent, the whole fleet's darling they bore to the twilight below:
And above the war-thunder came shouting, as foe struck his flag after
foe.

To his heart death rose: and for Hardy, the faithful, he cried in his
pain,--
'How goes the day with us, Hardy?' . . . ''Tis ours':--Then he knew, not
in vain
Not in vain for his comrades and England he bled: how he left her secure,
Queen of her own blue seas, while his name and example endure.
O, like a lover he loved her! for her as water he pours
Life-blood and life and love, lavish'd all for her sake, and for ours!
--'Kiss me, Hardy!--Thank God!--I have done my duty!'--And then
Fled t