Yet beautiful and bright he stood, A proud, though child-like form. The flames roiled on-be would not go, He called aloud-" Say, Father, say, "Speak, Father," once again he cried, Upon his brow he felt their breath, And in his waving hair; And looked from that lone post of death In still, but brave despair. And shouted but once more aloud, "My Father! must I stay?" While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, The wreathing fires made way. They wrapt the ship in splendour wild, They caught the flag on high, And streamed above the gallant child There came a burst of thunder-sound- With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, HEMANS. ODE. YE Mariners of England! Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, Your glorious standard launch again, And sweep through the deep, While the stormy tempests blow; While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy tempests blow. The spirits of your fathers For the deck it was their field of fame, Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell, Britannia needs no bulwark, Her march is o'er the mountain waves, With thunders from her native oak, The meteor flag of England Till danger's troubled night depart, When the storm has ceased to blow; CAMPBELL. PRIDE.* PRIDE, ugly pride, sometimes is seen * This and the four following Poems are taken from Taylor's "Hymns for Infant Minds," a book of which these extracts form a most inadequate specimen, and the whole of which ought to be in the hands of every child. And while the looks are mild and fair, Now if you really wish to find If Pride be lurking in your mind, Inquire if you can bear a slight, Or patiently give up your right. Can you submissively consent To take reproof and punishment, And feel no angry temper start In any corner of your heart? Can you at once confess a crime, And promise for another time? Or say you've been in a mistake, Nor try some poor excuse to make; But freely own that it was wrong To argue for your side so long? Flat contradiction can you bear, When you are right, and know you are? Nor flatly contradict again, But wait, or modestly explain, And tell your reasons one by one, Nor think of triumph when you've done? Or, when you find that you could do Put all these questions to your heart, And, when they've each been fairly tried, TAYLOR. AN EVENING HYMN. LORD, I have passed another day, Thy favour gives me daily bread, Look down in pity, and forgive Now, while I speak, be pleased to take TAYLOR |