Brave hearts! to Britain's pride With the gallant good Riou: Soft sigh the winds of Heaven o'er their grave! And the mermaid's song condoles Of the brave! 461 HOHENLINDEN ON Linden, when the sun was low, But Linden saw another sight, The darkness of her scenery. By torch and trumpet fast array'd To join the dreadful revelry. Then shook the hills with thunder riven; But redder yet that light shall glow 'Tis morn; but scarce yon level sun Shout in their sulphurous canopy. 462 The combat deepens. On, ye Brave And charge with all thy chivalry! Few, few shall part, where many meet! J. CAMPBELL FREEDOM AND LOVE How delicious is the winning Yet remember, 'midst your wooing Love he comes and Love he tarries Bind the sea to slumber stilly, Bind its odour to the lily, Bind the aspen ne'er to quiver, Then bind Love to last for ever. Love's a fire that needs renewal Of fresh beauty for its fuel: Love's wing moults when caged and captured, (U) HC XLI Can you keep the bee from ranging, 463 ALLAN CUNNINGHAM [1784-1842] HAME, HAME, Hame HAME, hame, hame, O hame fain wad I be- When the flower is i' the bud and the leaf is on the tree, The larks shall sing me hame in my ain countree; Hame, hame, hame, O hame fain wad I be O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countree! The green leaf o' loyaltie's beginning for to fa', O, there's nocht now frae ruin my country can save, The great now are gane, a' wha ventured to save, Hame, hame, hame, O hame fain wad I be- 464 A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA A WET sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast And fills the white and rustling sail Away the good ship flies, and leaves O for a soft and gentle wind! But give to me the snoring breeze And white waves heaving high; There's tempest in yon hornéd moon, The wind is piping loud, my boys, The lightning flashes free While the hollow oak our palace is, Our heritage the sea. 465 GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON [1788-1824] YOUTH AND AGE THERE'S not a joy the world can give like that it takes away When the glow of early thought declines in feeling's dull decay; 'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone, which fades so fast, But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth itself be past. Then the few whose spirits float above the wreck of happi ness Are driven o'er the shoals of guilt, or ocean of excess: Then the mortal coldness of the soul like death itself comes down; It cannot feel for others' woes, it dare not dream its own; That heavy chill has frozen o'er the fountain of our tears, And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where the ice appears. Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth distract the breast, Through midnight hours that yield no more their former hope of rest; 'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruin'd turret wreathe, All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and gray beneath. O could I feel as I have felt, or be what I have been, scene, As springs in deserts found seem sweet, all brackish though they be, So midst the wither'd waste of life, those tears would flow to me! 466 THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, |