Soldiers of the light

by Helen Gray Cone

And the cause of the right is failing,

There shall rise a frigate sailing,

A luminous presence paling

Through the powder-cloud where it lowers;

Pale smoke from her side shall break,

Pale faces over her railing

Shall frown, till the foemen shake

With fear and bewildered passion,

Marking her old-time fashion,

In the turrets of hostile powers;