The towering freeboard of the wooden wall,
And for the engines of a mightier Mars
Clipp’d their wide wings, and dock’d their soaring spars.
The gale that in their tackle sang, the wave
That neath their gilded galleries dasht so brave
Lost then their merriment, nor look to play
With the heavy-hearted monsters of to-day.
One noon in March upon that anchoring ground
Came Napier’s fleet unto the Baltic bound:
Cloudless the sky and calm and blue the sea,