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Poetry of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow



King Christian stood by the lofty mast
   In mist and smoke;
His sword was hammering so fast,
Through Gothic helm and brain it passed;
Then sank each hostile hulk and mast,
   In mist and smoke.
"Fly!" shouted they, "fly, he who can!
Who braves of Denmark's Christian
   The stroke?"

Nils Juel gave heed to the tempest's roar,
   Now is the hour!
He hoisted his blood-red flag once more,
And smote upon the foe full sore,
And shouted Loud, through the tempest's roar,
   "Now is the hour!"
"Fly!" shouted they, "for shelter fly!
Of Denmark's Juel who can defy
   The power?"

North Sea! a glimpse of Wessel rent
   Thy murky sky!
Then champions to thine arms were sent;
Terror and Death glared where he went;
From the waves was heard a wail, that
   Thy murky sky!
From Denmark, thunders Tordenskiol',
Let each to Heaven commend his soul,
    And fly!

Path of the Dane to fame and might!
   Dark-rolling wave!
Receive thy friend, who, scorning flight
Goes to meet danger with despite,
Proudly as thou the tempest's might
   Dark-rolling wave!
And amid pleasures and alarm;
And war and victory, be thine arms
   My grave!