Hesperus hail again! thy light
Best befriends the lover,

Whom the sadder Moon for spite
Gladly would discover.

RUBIES.

Often have I heard it said
That her lips are ruby-red:
Little heed I what they say,—
I have seen as red as they.
Ere she smiled on other men,
Real rubies were they then.

When she kiss'd me once in play,
Rubies were less bright than they;
And less bright were those which shone
In the palace of the Sun.

Will they be as bright agen?
Not if kiss'd by other men.

THE NEREID.

Beloved the last! beloved the most!
With willing arms and brow benign
Receive a bosom tempest-toss'd,
And bid it ever beat to thine!

The Nereid Maids, in days of yore,
Saw the lost pilot loose the helm,
Saw the wreck blacken all the shore,
And every wave some head o'erwhelm.

Afar, the youngest of the train

Beheld (but fear'd and aided not) A minstrel from the billowy main

Borne breathless near her coral grot.

Then terror fled, and pity rose :

"Ah me!" she cried, "I come too late! Rather than not have soothed his woes

I would, but may not, share his fate."

She raised his hand : "What hand like this
Could reach the heart, athwart the lyre!
What lips like these return my kiss,

Or breathe, incessant, soft desire ! "

From eve to morn, from morn to eve,
She gazed his features o'er and o'er :
And those who love and who believe
May hear her sigh along the shore.

THE MAID'S LAMENT.

I loved him not; and yet, now he is gone,
I feel I am alone.

I check'd him while he spoke; yet could he speak,
Alas! I would not check.

For reasons not to love him once I sought,
And wearied all my thought

To vex myself and him; I now would give
My love, could he but live

Who lately lived for me and, when he found
'Twas vain, in holy ground

He hid his face amid the shades of death.
I waste for him my breath

Who wasted his for me; but mine returns
And this lorn bosom burns

With stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep,

And waking me to weep

Tears that had melted his soft heart: for years
Wept he as bitter tears.

"Merciful God!"-such was his latest prayer :

“These may she never share ! ”

Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold
Than daisies in the mould,

Where children spell athwart the churchyard-gate
His name and life's brief date.

Pray for him, gentle souls! whoe'er you be ;
And O, pray too for me!

MARGARET.

Mother! I cannot mind my wheel;
My fingers ache, my lips are dry.
O, if you felt that pain I feel-
But O, who ever felt as I?

No longer could I doubt him true :
All other men may use deceit,-
He always said my eyes were blue,
And often swore my lips were sweet.

TO YOUTH.

Where art thou gone? light-ankled Youth!
With wing at either shoulder,
And smile that never left thy mouth
Until the hours grew colder.

Then somewhat seem'd to whisper near
That thou and I must part:

I doubted it, I felt no fear,
No weight upon the heart.

If aught befell it, Love was by
And roll'd it off again :
So, if there ever was a sigh,
'Twas not a sigh of pain.

I may not call thee back; but thou
Returnest when the hand

Of gentle Sleep waves o'er my brow
His poppy-crested wand.

Then smiling eyes bend over mine;
Then lips, once press'd, invite:
But Sleep hath given a silent sign,
And both, alas! take flight.

ERINNA TO LOVE.

Who breathes to thee the holiest prayer, O Love! is ever least thy care. Alas! I may not ask thee why 'tis so: Because a fiery scroll I see

Hung at the throne of Destiny,

"Reason with Love and register with Woe!"

Few question thee, for thou art strong, And, laughing loud at Right and Wrong, Seizest and dashest down the rich, the poor; Thy sceptre's iron studs alike

The meaner and the prouder strike, And wise and simple fear thee and adore.

THOMAS CAMPBELL.

1777-1844.

THE BATTLE OF THE BALTIC.

Of Nelson and the North

Sing the glorious day's renown!

When to battle fierce came forth

All the might of Denmark's Crown,

And her arms along the deep proudly shone :

By each gun the lighted brand

In a bold determined hand,

And the Prince of all the land

Led them on.

Like leviathans afloat

Lay their bulwarks on the brine

While the sign of battle flew
On the lofty British line :

It was ten of April morn by the chime.
As they drifted on their path

There was silence deep as death,

And the boldest held his breath
For a time.

But the might of England flush'd
To anticipate the scene;

And her van the fleeter rush'd

O'er the deadly space between :

"Hearts of oak!" our captains cried : when each gun From its adamantine lips

Spread a death-shade round the ships,

Like the hurricane eclipse

Of the sun.

Again! again! again!

And the havoc did not slack

Till a feeble cheer the Dane

To our cheering sent us back;

Their shots along the deep slowly boom ;

Then ceased ;—and all is wail,

As they strike the shatter'd sail,

Or in conflagration pale

Light the gloom.

Out spoke the Victor then,
As he hail'd them o'er the wave:

"Ye are brothers! ye are men!

And we conquer but to save,—

So peace instead of death let us bring!
But yield, proud foe! thy fleet,

With the crews, at England's feet,

And make submission meet

To our king!"