Far from the battle shock, fate has fast bound thee,
Chained to the rugged rock, waves dash around thee,
Instead of the trumpet's sound, seabirds are shrieking;
Hoarse, on the ramparts bound, billows are breaking.
For ensigns unfurling, like sunbeams, in brightness
Are ocean waves curling, like snow wreaths in whiteness,
No sycophants mock thee with dreams of dominion,
But loud tempests rock thee and ruffle thy pinion.