457

Heaven gives our years of fading strength

Indemnifying fleetness;

And those of youth, a seeming length,
Proportion'd to their sweetness.

TO THE EVENING STAR

GEM of the crimson-colour'd Even,
Companion of retiring day,
Why at the closing gates of heaven,
Beloved Star, dost thou delay?

So fair thy pensile beauty burns
When soft the tear of twilight flows;
So due thy plighted love returns
To chambers brighter than the rose;

To Peace, to Pleasure, and to Love
So kind a star thou seem'st to be,
Sure some enamour'd orb above
Descends and burns to meet with thee!

Thine is the breathing, blushing hour
When all unheavenly passions fly,
Chased by the soul-subduing power
Of Love's delicious witchery.

O! sacred to the fall of day
Queen of propitious stars, appear,
And early rise, and long delay,
When Caroline herself is here!

Shine on her chosen green resort
Whose trees the sunward summit crown,
And wanton flowers, that well may court
An angel's feet to tread them down:-

Shine on her sweetly scented road
Thou star of evening's purple dome,
That lead'st the nightingale abroad,
And guid'st the pilgrim to his home.

458

Shine where my charmer's sweeter breath
Embalms the soft exhaling dew,
Where dying winds a sigh bequeath
To kiss the cheek of rosy hue:-

Where, winnow'd by the gentle air
Her silken tresses darkly flow
And fall upon her brow so fair,
Like shadows on the mountain snow.

Thus, ever thus, at day's decline
In converse sweet to wander far-
O bring with thee my Caroline.
And thou shalt be my Ruling Star!

THE MAID OF NEIDPATH

EARL March look'd on his dying child,
And, smit with grief to view her—
The youth, he cried, whom I exiled
Shall be restored to woo her.

She's at the window many an hour
His coming to discover:

And he look'd up to Ellen's bower
And she look'd on her lover-

But ah! so pale, he knew her not,
Though her smile on him was dwelling-

And am I then forgot-forgot?

It broke the heart of Ellen.

In vain he weeps, in vain he sighs,
Her cheek is cold as ashes;

Nor love's own kiss shall wake those eyes
To lift their silken lashes.

459

YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND

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.

The spirits of your fathers
Shall start from every wave—

For the deck it was their field of fame,
And Ocean was their grave:

Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell
Your manly hearts shall glow,
As ye sweep through the deep,
While the stormy winds do blow;
While the battle rages loud and long
And the stormy winds do blow.

Britannia needs no bulwarks,

No towers along the steep;

Her march is o'er the mountain-waves,

Her home is on the deep.

With thunders from her native oak

She quells the floods below

As they roar on the shore,

When the stormy winds do blow;

When the battle rages loud and long,

And the stormy winds do blow.

The meteor flag of England
Shall yet terrific burn;

Till danger's troubled night depart
And the star of peace return.

Then, then, ye ocean-warriors!
Our song and feast shall flow
To the fame of your name,

When the storm has ceased to blow;
When the fiery fight is heard no more,
And the storm has ceased to blow.

460

BATTLE OF THE BALTIC

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

Led them on.

Like leviathans afloat

Lay their bulwarks on the brine;
While the sign of battle flew

On the lofty British line:

It was ten of April morn by the chime:

As they drifted on their path

There was silence deep as death;
And the boldest held his breath
For a time.

But the might of England flush'd

To anticipate the scene;

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 the ships,

Like the hurricane eclipse

Of the sun.

Again! again! again!

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;
Or in conflagration pale

Light the gloom.

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:—

So peace instead of death let us bring:
But yield, proud foe, thy fleet

With the crews, at England's feet,
And make submission meet

To our King.'

Then Denmark bless'd 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 smiling bright

O'er a wide and woeful sight,

Where the fires of funeral light

Died away.

Now joy, old England, raise!
For the tidings of thy might,
By the festal cities' blaze,

Whilst the wine-cup shines in light;
And yet amidst that joy and uproar,
Let us think of them that sleep

Full many a fathom deep

By thy wild and stormy steep,
Elsinore !