But come thy ways; we'll go along together, Adam. Master, go on, and I will follow thee, Yet fortune cannot recompense me better XCIX. BATTLE OF THE BALTIC. I. F Nelson and the North, Sing the glorious day's renown, All the might of Denmark's crown, And her arms along the deep proudly shone ; In a bold determined hand, And the Prince of all the land Led them on. II. 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; III. But the might of England flushed And her van the fleeter rushed 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. IV. 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 cease-and all is wail, As they strike the shattered sail; Or, in conflagration pale, Light the gloom. V. Out spoke the victor then As he hailed 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, To our king.' VI. Then Denmark blest our chief As Death withdrew his shades from the day : Where the fires of funeral light Died away. VII. Now joy, Old England, raise ! Whilst the wine-cup shines in light; Full many a fathom deep, By thy wild and stormy steep, Elsinore ! VIII. Brave hearts! to Britain's pride On the deck of fame that died ; With the gallant good Riou ; Soft sigh the winds of heaven o'er their grave! While the billow mournful rolls, And the mermaid's song condoles, Singing glory to the souls Of the brave! T. Campbell. C. SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY. HE walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; Which heaven to gaudy day denies. * 'Captain Riou, justly entitled "the gallant and the good" by Lord Nelson when he wrote home his despatches.' One shade the more, one ray the less, Or softly lightens o'er her face; And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, A mind at peace with all below, Byron. CI. A WEST HIGHLANDER. E stands among the fields of corn, Towards the morn. His watchful eyes are fierce yet soft Slowly the heaped wain drags along; The gleaner's song. But not the song of lowland bards, Nor morning light 'mong autumn leaves, His soul regards. Where the stag looks across the walls Beyond the snow of Ben-y-Gloe He sees upon the mountain's face, CII. COWPER'S GRAVE. Anon. T is a place where poets crowned may feel the heart's decaying; It is a place where happy saints may weep amid their praying: Yet let the grief and humbleness as low as silence languish : Earth surely now may give her calm to whom she gave her anguish. O Poets, from a maniac's tongue, was poured the deathless singing! O Christians, at your cross of hope a hopeless hand was clinging! O Men, this man in brotherhood your weary paths be guiling, Groaned inly while he taught you peace, and died while ye were smiling! And now, what time ye all may read through dimming tears his story, How discord on the music fell and darkness on the glory, And how when, one by one, sweet sounds and wandering lights departed, He wore no less a loving face because so brokenhearted, |