One, who strove darkly sorrow's sob to stay, And prayed to end my pilgrimage of pain, Oh, had he lived to reach this wretched land, And then expired, I would have bless'd the strand! I cannot come, with broken heart, to sigh I may not pour the soul-drop from mine eye ANON, AFTER BLENHEIM. It was a summer evening, Old Kaspar's work was done, And by him sported on the green She saw her brother Peterkin In playing there had found; He came to ask what he had found, That was so large, and smooth, and round. Old Kaspar took it from the boy, Who stood expectant by ; And then the old man shook his head, ""Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he, "Who fell in the great victory. I find them in the garden, For there's many here about; And often, when I go to plough, The ploughshare turns them out : For many a thousand men," said he, "Were slain in that great victory." "Now tell us what 'twas all about," "It was the English," Kaspar cried, "Who put the French to rout; But what they killed each other for, I could not well make out : But everybody said," quoth he, My father lived at Blenheim then, Yon little stream hard by. They burned his dwelling to the ground, And he was forced to fly : So with his wife and child he fled; Nor had he where to rest his head. With fire and sword the country round Was wasted far and wide, And many a childing mother then And new-born baby died : But things like that, you know, must be, At every famous victory. They say it was a shocking sight Lay rotting in the sun : But things like that, you know, must be, Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won, Said little Wilhelmine. "Nay, nay, my little girl," quoth he, And everybody praised the Duke, "Why, that I cannot tell," said he, SOUTHEY. NAPOLEON AND THE SAILOR. NAPOLEON'S banners at Boulogne They suffered him-I know not how- His eye, methinks, pursued the flight A stormy midnight watch, he thought, Than this sojourn would have been dearer, If but the storm his vessel brought At last, when care had banished sleep, He saw one morning-dreaming-doating, He hid it in a cave, and wrought Heaven help us! 'twas a thing beyond For ploughing in the salt sea field, It would have made the boldest shudder; Untarred, uncompassed, and unkeeled, No sail-no rudder! From neighbouring woods he interlaced But Frenchmen caught him on the beach, Till tidings of him chanced to reach With folded arms Napoleon stood, Serene alike in peace and danger, And in his wonted attitude Addressed the stranger : "Rash man, that wouldst yon Channel pass On twigs and staves so rudely fashioned ! Thy heart with some sweet British lass Must be impassioned." "I have no sweetheart," said the lad; "And so thou shalt!" Napoleon said; He gave the tar a piece of gold, Our sailor oft could scantily shift CAMPBELL. THE DAISY. THERE is a flower, a little flower, The prouder beauties of the field In gay but quick succession shine; Race after race their honours yield,— They flourish and decline. But this small flower, to Nature dear, While moon and stars their courses run, Wreathes the whole circle of the year, Companion of the sun. It smiles upon the lap of May, To sultry August spreads its charms; Lights pale October on his way, And twines December's arms. |