When news arrived of the Royal George’s sinking, Cowper wrote this elegy. It mourns the loss of Rear-Admiral Kempenfelt and eight hundred men, who drowned in calm water when a land-breeze capsized the ship during routine repairs. The speaker’s grief is laced with disbelief that such seasoned sailors died so uselessly—not in a storm or battle, but with “his sword… in its sheath, / His fingers held the pen.” The repeated imperative “Toll for the brave” gives the poem a solemn, processional rhythm, as if bells are ringing for the dead. While the speaker briefly imagines the ship being salvaged to fight again, the poem ends on a note of finality: Kempenfelt and his crew are forever lost to the sea. The mood is one of hushed, national mourning—a quiet devastation over a tragedy without drama.
On The Loss Of The Royal George — Summary
Written when the news arrived.
Toll for the brave! The brave that are no more! All sunk beneath the wave Fast by their native shore.
Eight hundred of the brave, Whose courage well was tried, Had made the vessel heel, And laid her on her side.
A land-breeze shook the shrouds, And she was overset; Down went the Royal George, With all her crew complete.
Toll for the brave! Brave Kempenfelt is gone; His last sea-fight is fought, His work of glory done.
It was not in the battle, No tempest gave the shock, She sprang no fatal leak, She ran upon no rock.
His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men.
Weigh the vessel up, Once dreaded by our foes; And mingle with our cup The tears that England owes.
Her timbers yet are sound, And she may float again Full charged with England's thunder, And plough the distant main.
But Kempenfelt is gone, His victories are o'er; And he and his eight hundred Shall plough the wave no more.