But things like that, you know, must be After a famous victory. "Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won, And our good Prince Eugene." "Why, 'twas a very wicked thing," Said little Wilhelmine. "Nay, nay, my little girl," quoth he, "It was a famous victory. "And everybody praised the Duke "Why, that I cannot tell," said he, THE SCHOLAR. My days among the Dead are past; Where'er these casual eyes are cast, My never-failing friends are they, With them I take delight in weal, And while I understand and feel My cheeks have often been bedew'd My thoughts are with the Dead; with them Their virtues love, their faults condemn, And from their lessons seek and find My hopes are with the Dead ; anon Yet leaving here a name, I trust, THOMAS CAMPBELL. BATTLE OF THE BALTIC. I. OF Nelson and the North, Sing the glorious day's renown, When to battle fierce came forth All the might of Denmark's crown, And her arms along the deep proudly shone, By each gun the lighted brand In a bold determined hand, And the Prince of all the land Like leviathans afloat II. Lay their bulwarks on the brine; On the lofty British line: It was ten of April morn by the chime : There was silence deep as death, And the boldest held his breath III. But the might of England flush'd And her van the fleeter rush'd O'er the deadly space between. "Hearts of oak," our captains cried; when each gun From its adamantine lips Spread a death-shade round our ships, Like the hurricane eclipse 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 ceased, and all is wail, As they strike the shatter'd sail; Light the gloom. V. Out spoke the victor then, As he hail'd them o'er the wave: "Ye are brothers! ye are men ! And we conquer but to save. L So peace instead of death let us bring; With the crews, at England's feet, And make submission meet To our King." VI. Then Denmark blest our chief, That he gave her wounds repose; And the sounds of joy and grief From her people wildly rose, As Death withdrew his shades from the day; While the sun look'd shining bright O'er a wide and woeful sight, Where the fires of funeral-light Died away. VII. Now joy, old England, raise! While the wine-cup shines in light; And yet amidst that joy and uproar, DEATH OF GERTRUDE. "CLASP me a little longer on the brink Of fate! while I can feel thy dear caress; And when this heart hath ceased to beat-O think, And let it mitigate thy woe's excess, That thou hast been to me all tenderness, And friend to more than human friendship just. O! by that retrospect of happiness, And by the hopes of an immortal trust, God shall assuage thy pangs when I am laid in dust! "Half I could bear, methinks, to leave this earth, And thee, more loved than aught beneath the sun, If I had lived to smile but on the birth Of one dear pledge; but shall there then be none, In future times,-no gentle little one, To clasp thy neck, and look, resembling me? Yet seems it, even while life's last pulses run, A sweetness in the cup of death to be, Lord of my bosom's love! to die beholding thee!" YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND. I. YE mariners of England! That guard our native seas; Whose flag has braved a thousand years The battle and the breeze! Your glorious standard launch again To match another foe! And sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow ; While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow. Shall start from every wave ! For the deck it was their field of fame, And ocean was their grave; |