For ruin, falls the mast, and over swings
Trembling beneath the assault. The hulls divide,
And where the gaping seams the waves invite,
They enter, while the dying Spaniards cried,
“O! that we were to perish, but in fight!”
In that remorseless conflict, high in air,
Then shining forth their glorious forms display’d
The mighty champions, who of old to bear
The trident and the spear, supreme had made
Before the Iberian flag the nations bow.