The dead and the living! "T is barren and bare, But the grass below it is fresh and green,

Though its roots can find no moisture there: Yet still on its birthplace it loves to linger, And evermore points with its silent finger

To the clouds, and the sun, and the sky so fair.

WE

Grow old in song? here die, on Nature's breast

Hushed, like yon wild bird on the lake, to rest?
Then laid asleep beneath the branches sere,
Till the Awakener in the east appear,
And call the dead to judgment? Quietness,
Methinks the heart-whole rustic loves thee less
Than the town's thought-worn smiler. O, most dear
Art thou to him who flies from care to bowers
That breathe of sainted calmness! and to me
More welcome than the breath of hawthorn flowers
To children of the city, when delight

Leads them from smoke to cowslips, is the sight
Of these green shades, those rocks, this little sea.
Ebenezer Elliott.

Α'

Plymouth.

PLYMOUTH.

CORINEUS AND GOGMAGOG.

LL doubtful to which part the victory would go
Upon that lofty place at Plymouth called the
Hoe,

Those mighty wrestlers met; with many an ireful look
Who threatened, as the one hold of the other took:
But, grappled, glowing fire shines in their sparkling

eyes.

And whilst at length of arm one from the other lies, Their lusty sinews swell like cables, as they strive: Their feet such trampling make, as though they forced to drive

A thunder out of earth, which staggered with the weight:

Thus either's utmost force urged to the greatest height,
Whilst one upon his hip the other seeks to lift,
And the adverse (by a turn) doth from his cunning

shift,

Their short-fetched troubled breath a hollow noise doth make

Like bellows of a forge. Then Corin up doth take The giant 'twixt the grains; and voiding of his hold (Before his cumberous feet he well recover could) Pitched headlong from the hill; as when a man doth throw

An axtree, that with slight delivered from the toe Roots up the yielding earth; so that his violent fall Strook Neptune with such strength, as shouldered him withal;

That where the monstrous waves like mountains late did stand,

They leaped out of the place, and left the bared sand To gaze upon wide Heaven: so great a blow it gave. For which the conquering brute on Corineus brave This horn of land bestowed, and marked it with his

name;

Of Corin, Cornwal called, to his immortal fame.

A

THE SPANISH ARMADA.

*

Michael Drayton.

TTEND all ye who list to hear
Our noble England's praise!

I tell of the thrice famous deeds
She wrought in ancient days,
When that great fleet invincible
Against her bore in vain
The richest spoils of Mexico,
The stoutest hearts of Spain.

It was about the lovely close
Of a warm summer day,
There came a gallant merchant-ship
Full sail to Plymouth Bay;

Her crew had seen Castile's black fleet
Beyond Aurigny's Isle,

At earliest twilight, on the waves,
Lie heaving many a mile;
At sunrise she escaped their van,
By God's especial grace;

And the tall Pinta, till the moon,
Had held her close in chase.
Forthwith, a guard at every gun
Was placed along the wall;
The beacon blazed upon the roof
Of Edgecombe's lofty hall,
And many a fishing-bark put out
To pry along the coast,

And with loose rein and bloody spur
Rode inland many a post.

With his white hair unbonneted
The stout old sheriff comes;
Behind him march the halberdiers,
Before him sound the drums.
His yeomen round the market-cross
Make clear an ample space,
For there behoves him to set up
The standard of her grace.
And haughtily the trumpets peal,
And gayly dance the bells,
As slow upon the laboring wind
The royal blazon swells.
Look how the lion of the seas

Lifts up his ancient crown,
And underneath his deadly paw
Treads the gay lilies down!

So stalked he when he turned to flight,
On that famed Picard field,
Bohemia's plume, Genoa's bow,
And Cæsar's eagle shield;
So glared he when at Agincourt
In wrath he turned to bay,

And crushed and torn beneath his claws
The princely hunters lay.

Ho! strike the flagstaff deep, Sir Knight,
Ho! scatter flowers, fair maids,

Ho! gunners, fire a loud salute,
Ho! gallants, draw your blades;
Thou sun, shine on her joyously;
Ye breezes, waft her wide;
Our glorious Semper eadem,-
The banner of our pride!

The freshening breeze of eve unfurled
That banner's massy fold, -

The parting gleam of sunshine kissed
That haughty scroll of gold;
Night sank upon the dusky beach,

And on the purple sea,

Such night in England ne'er had been,

Nor e'er again shall be.

From Eddystone to Berwick bounds,

From Lynn to Milford Bay,

That time of slumber was as bright

And busy as the day;

For swift to east and swift to west

The warning radiance spread;