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YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND. | In both from age to age, thou didst

rejoice, YE mariners of England!

They were thy chosen music, LibThat guard our native seas;

erty! Whose flag has braved a thousand There came a tyrant, and with holy years

glee The battle and the breeze:

Thou foughtst against him, but hast Your glorious standard launch again,

vainly striven; To match another foe!

Thou from thy Alpine holds at And sweep through the deep,

length art driven, While the stormy tempests blow; Where not a torrent murmurs heard While the battle rages loud and long,

by thee. And the stormy tempests blow. Of one deep bliss thine ear hath been

berett: The spirit of your fathers

Then cleave, () cleave to that which Shall start from every wave!

still is left; For the deck it was their field of fame, For, high-souled maid, what sorrow And ocean was their grave;

would it be Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell, That mountain tloods should thunder Your manly hearts shall glow,

as before, As ye sweep through the deep,

And ocean bellow from his rocky While the stormy tempests blow;

shore, While the battle rages loud and long, And neither awful voice be heard And the stormy tempests blow.

by thee!

WORDSWORTH. Britannia needs no bulwark, No towers along the steep; Iler inarch is o'er the mountain

SONNET. wares, Ier home is on the deep.

ALAS! what boots the long, laborious With thunders from her native oak

quest She quells the flood below, —

Of moral prudence, sought through As they roar on the shore,

good and ill; When the stormy tempests blow; Or pains abstruse, to elevate the When the battle rages loud and long,

will, And the stormy tempests blow. And lead us on to that transcendent

rest The meteor flag of England

Where every passion shall the sway Shall yet terrific burn,

attest Till danger's troubled night depart, Of Reason, seated on her sovereign And the star of peace return.

hill ? Then, then, ye ocean warriors, What is it but a vain and curious Our song and feast shall How

skill, To the fame of your name,

If sapient Germany must lie deWhen the storm has ceased to blow;

pressed When the fiery fight is heard no inore, Beneath the brutal sword ? Iler And the storm has ceased to blow.

haughty schools CAMPBELL. Shall blush; and may not we with

sorrow say,

A few strong instincts and a few THOUGIIT OF A BRITON ON

plain rules, THE SUBJUGATION OF Among the herdsmen of the Alps, SWITZERLAND.

have wrought

More for mankind at this unhappy Two voices are there, -one is of

day, the sea,

Than all the pride of intellect and One of the mountains, - each a

thought. inighty voice;

WORDSWORTI.

SCHILL,

No sleep till morn, when youth and

pleasure meet To chase the glowing hours with

tlving feet. But, hark! - that heavy sound

breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would

repeat, And nearer, clearer, deadlier than

before! Arm! arm! it is - it is - the can

non's opening roar!

BRAVE Schill! by death delivered,

take thy flight From Prussia's timid region. Go,

and rest With heroes, 'mid the Islands of the

Blest, Or in the fields of empyrean light. A meteor wert thou crossing a dark

night; Yet shall thy name, conspicuous

and sublime, Stand in the spacious firmament of

time, Fixed as a star: such glory is thy

right. Alas! it may not be: for earthly fame Is fortune's frail dependent; yel

there lives A Judge, who, as man claims by

merit, gives; To whose all-pondering mind a

noble aim, Faithfully kept, is as a noble deed; In whose pure sight all virtue doth succeed.

WORDSWORTH.

Within a windowed niche of that

high hall Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain:

he did hear That sound the first amidst the

festival, And caught its tone with death's

prophetic ear; And when they smiled because be

deemed it near, His heart more truly knew that

peal too well Which stretched his father on a

bloody bier, And roused the vengeance blood

alone could quell: He rushed into the field, and, fore

most fighting, fell.

WATERLOO.

TIere was a sound of revelry by

night, And Belgium's capital had gath

ered then Her beauty and her chivalry, and

bright The lamps shone o'er fair women

and brave men: A thousand hearts beat happily;

and when
Music arose with its voluptuous

Swell,
Soft eyes looked love to eyes which

spake again,
And all went merry as a marriage

bell: But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes

like a rising knell!

Ah! then and there was hurrying

•to and fro, And gathering tears, and trem

blings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which, but an

hour ago, Blushed at the praise of their own

loveliness; And there were sudden parting

such as press The life from out young hearts,

and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated:

who could guess If ever more should meet those

mutual eyes, Since upon wiglit so sweet such

awful morn could rise?

Did ye not hear it? – No; 'twas

but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony

street: On with the dance! let joy be

, unconfined;

And there was mounting in hot

haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the

clattering car, Went pouring forward with impet

uous speed,

And swiftly forming in the ranks | Commanding fires of death to light of war;

The darkness of her scenery. And the deep thunder peal on peal afar;

By torch and trumpet fast arrayed, And near, the beat of the alarming Each horseman drew his battle blade, druun

And furious every charger neighed, Roused up the soldier ere the To join the dreadful revelry.

morning star; While thronged the citizens with Then shook the hills with thunder terror dumb,

riven, Or whispering, with white lips, “The Then rushed the steed to battle foe! They come!they come!”

driven, BYRON. And louder than the bolts of heaven

Far flashed the red artillery.

IN THE FIGHT.

But redder yet that light shall

glow The voice is heard through rolling On Linden's hills of stained snow, drus

And bloodier yet the torrent flow That beat to battle where he Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

stands; Thy face across his fancy comes, 'Tis morn, but scarce von lurid sun

And gives the battle to his hands: Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling A moment, while the trumpets blow,

dun, He sees his brood about thy knee; Where furious Frank and fiery Hun The next, like fire he meets the foe, Shout in their sulphurous canopy. And strikes him dead for thine and thee.

The combat deepens. On, ye brave, TENNYSON. Who rush to glory, or the grave!

Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave!

And charge with all thy chivalry! MURAT.

Ah! few shall part where many THERE, where death's brief pang

meet! was quickest,

The snow shall be their windingAnd the battle's wreck lay thickest,

sheet, Strewed beneath the advancing ban And every turf beneath their feet ner

Shall be a soldier's sepulchre. Of the eagles' burning crest

CAMPBELL. There with thunder-clouds to fan her

Victory beaming from her breast! While the broken line enlarsing

SONNET. Fell, or fled along the plain:There be sure Vurut was charging! It is not to be thought of that the There he ne'er shall charge again!

flood BYROX. Of British freedom, which, to the

open sea

Of the world's praise, from dark HOHENLINDEN.

antiquity

Hath flowers, - with pomp of waters Ox Linden, when the sun was low,

wwithstood,' All bloodless lay the introdden snow, Roused though it be full often to a And dark as winter was the flow

mood Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

Which spurns the check of salutary

bands, Bit Linien saw another sight

That this most famous stream in When the drum beat, at dead of

bogs and sands night,

| Should perish, and to evil and to good Be lost forever. In our halls is hung | Him shall no sunshine from the Armory of the invincible knights of

fields of azure, old:

No drum-beat from the wall, We must be free or die, who speak No morning gun from the black the tongue

forts' embrasure, That Shakspeare spake — the faith Awaken with their call!

and morals hold Which Milton held. In every thing No more, surveying with an eye we are sprung

impartial Of Earth's first blood, have titles The long line of the coast, manifold.

Shall the gaunt figure of the old fieldWORDSWORTH.

marshal

Be seen upon his post! THE WARDEN OF THE CINQUE | For in the night, unseen, a single PORTS.

warrior,

In sombre harness mailed,
A MIST was driving down the British Dreaded of man, and surnamed the
Channel;

Destroyer,
The day was just begun;

The rampart wall has scaled ! And through the window-panes, on floor and panel,

He passed into the chamber of the Streamed the red autumn sun.

sleeper,

The dark and silent room; It glanced on flowing flag and rip- | And, as he entered, darker grew, pling pennoni,

and deeper And the white sails of ships;

The silence and the gloom. And, from the frowning rampart, the black cannon

He did not pause to parley, or disHailed it with feverish lips.

semble,

But smote the warden hoar — Sandwich and Romney, Ilastings, | Al! what a blow! that made all Hithe, and Dover,

England tremble Were all alert that day,

And groan from shore to shore. To see the French war-steamers speeding over

Meanwhile, without, the surly canWhen the fog cleared away.

non waited,

. The sun rose bright o’erhead, Sullen and silent, and like couchant Nothing in Nature's aspect inti

mated Their camon, through the night, That a great man was dead! Holding their breath, had watched

LONGFELLOW. in grim defiance The seacoast opposite;

THE LOST LEADER. And now they roared, at drum-beat,

from their stations On every citadel; Each answering each, with morning Just for a handful of silver he left

salutations, That all was well!

Just for a ribbon to stick in his

coat; And down the coast, all taking up Found the one gift of which fortune the burden,

bereft us, Replied the distant forts –

Lost all the others she lets us As if to summon from his sleep the

devote. warden

They, with the gold to give, doled And lord of the Cinque Ports.

him out silver,

lions,

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So much was theirs who so little | WESTWARD the course of Empire allowed.

takes its way. How all our copper had gone for his The four first acts already past, service!

A fifth shall close the drama with Rags — were they purple, his

the day: heart had been proud:

Time's noblest offspring is his last. We that had loved him so, followed

BISHOP GEORGE BERKELEY. him, honored him, Lived in his mild and magnificent eye,

ENTRANCE OF COLUMBUS Learned his great language, caught

INTO BARCELONA. his clear accents, Made him our pattern to live and

Lo! on his far-resounding path to die!

Sink crucitis and crown, Shakspeare was of us, Milton was And from high tower and balcony for us,

The light of Spain looks down, Burns, Shelley, were with us, –

For Beauty's dark, dark virgin eyes they watch from their graves!

Gleam ceaseless round him now, He alone breaks from the van and

As stars from still upheaving skies the freemen;

Would new-born from the waves He alone sinks to the rear and the

arise

On his advancing prow. slaves!

GRENVILLE MELLEN.

II.

We shall march prospering, - not

through his presence; Songs may inspirit us, — not from

his lyre; Deeds will be done — while he boasts

his quiescence, Still bidding crouch whom the

rest balle aspire. Blot out his name, then, - record

one lost soul inore, One task more declined, one more

foot-patlı uitrod, One more triumph for devils, and

sorrow for angels, One wrong more to man, one

more insult to God! Life's night begins; let him never

come back to lis! There would be doubt, hesitation,

and pain, Forced praise on our part, - the

glimmer of twilight, Never glad confident morning

again! Best fight on well, for we taught

him, - strike gallantly, Aim at our heart ere we pierce

through his own; Then let him receive the new knowl

edge and wait iis, Pardoned in Heaven, the first by the throne!

ROBERT BROWNING.

.

INDIANS.
ALAS! for them, their day is o'er,
Their fires are out on hill and shore;
No more for them the wild deer

bounds,
The plough is on their hunting

grounds; The pale man's axe rings through

their woods, The pale man's sail skims o’er their

foods; Their pleasant springs are dry; Their children, — look, by power

opprest, Beyond the mountains of the west, Their children go to die.

CHARLES SPRAGUE.

THE LANDING OF THE PIL

GRIM FATHERS IN NEW

ENGLAND.
The breaking waves dashed high

On a stern and rockbound coast,
And the woods against a stormy sky

Their giant branches tossed.

And the heavy might lung dark

The hills and waters o'er,
When a band of exiles moored their

bark
On the wild New England shore.

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