Up with it high; unfurl it wide; that all the host may know return. Ho! Philip, send, for charity, thy Mexican pistoles, That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's souls. [bright; Ho! gallant nobles of the League, look that your arms be Ho! burghers of Saint Genevieve, keep watch and ward [raised the slave, to-night. For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God hath And mocked the counsel of the wise, and the valour of the brave. Then glory to His holy name, from whom all glories are ; And glory to our Sovereign Lord, King Henry of Navarre. Macaulay. The Fairy of the Sea. THERE'S a frigate on the waters, fit for battle, storm, or sun; She dances like a life-boat, though she carries flag and gun, I'm rich and blest while I can call that gallant craft my [throne. own; I'm king of her, and Jove himself may keep his crown and She'll stem the billows mountain high, or skim the moon lit spray; She'll take a blow and face a foe, like lion turned at bay, Whate'er may try, she'll stand the test; the brave, the staunch, the free: She bears a name of stainless fame, the "Fairy of the Sea." The gale is up, she feels the breath, the petrel is behind; She travels through the white foam like an arrow on the wind. Softly, softly,-hold her in-let her slacken in her pace; She'll do the pilot's bidding with a greyhound's gentle grace. [like a swan; The rocks are round her-what of that? she turns them The boiling breakers roar, but she is safely creeping on. Hurrah! hurrah! she's clear again! More canvass! helm a-lee ! [the Sea." Away she bounds, like deer from hounds, the "Fairy of I've met with life's rough-weather squalls, and run on shoals ashore; [friends no more: All passed me under scudding-sails, and friends were But when the storm-fiend did its worst, and blanched the firmest crew, [was true. No timber yawned, no cordage broke; my bark, my bark We've lived together, closely bound, too long to lightly part; I love her like a living thing; she's anchored in my heart; But Death must come, and come he may; right welcome he shall be, So that I sleep ten fathoms deep in the "Fairy of the Sea." Eliza Cook. Helvellyn. I CLIMB'D the dark brow of the mighty Helvellyn, All was still, save by fits, when the eagle was yelling, On the right, Striden-edge round the Red-tarn was bending, One huge nameless rock in the front was ascending, When I marked the sad spot where the wanderer had died. Dark green was that spot 'mid the brown mountain-heather, And chased the hill-fox and the raven away. How long didst thou think that his silence was slumber? When the wind waved his garment, how oft didst thou start? How many long days and long weeks didst thou number, Ere he faded before thee, the friend of thy heart? And, oh! was it meet, that—no requiem read o'er him— Unhonour'd the Pilgrim from life should depart? When a Prince to the fate of the Peasant has yielded, The tapestry waves dark round the dim-lighted hall; With scutcheons of silver the coffin is shielded, And pages stand mute by the canopied pall: Through the courts, at deep midnight, the torches are gleaming; In the proudly-arch'd chapel the banners are beaming, But meeter for thee, gentle lover of nature, To lay down thy head like the meek mountain lamb, When, wilder'd, he drops from some cliff huge in stature, And draws his last sob by the side of his dam. And more stately thy couch by this desert lake lying, Thy obsequies sung by the grey plover flying, With one faithful friend but to witness thy dying, In the arms of Helvellyn and Catchedicam ! "No." Scott. WOULD ye learn the bravest thing that man can ever do? Of the noble, just, and great; rich in real glory? "No." Then, oh! then, let courage rise to its strongest flow; Ye that poison soul and mind with perjury's foul stains; Men with goodly spirits blest, willing to do right; When companions seek to taunt judgment into sin; When the loud laugh fain would daunt your better voice within ; Oh! be sure ye'll never meet more insidious foe; But strike the coward to your feet, by Reason's watchword, “No!” Ah! how many thorns we wreathe to twine our brows around; By not knowing when to breathe this important sound. "Yes." Many a sad, repentant thought turns to "long ago;" When a luckless fate was wrought by want of saying "No." Few have learnt to speak this word when it should be spoken; Resolution is deferred, vows to virtue broken. More of courage is required, this one word to say, Than to stand where shots are fired in the battle fray. May be schooled, and nobly ruled by power to utter "No." The Armada. ATTEND, all ye who list to hear our noble England's praise; I tell of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in ancient days, When that great fleet invincible against her bore in vain The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts of Spain. It was about the lovely close of a warm summer day, There came a gallant merchant-ship full sail to Plymouth [isle, Bay; His yeomen round the market cross make clear an ample Bohemia's plume, and Genoa's bow, and Cæsar's eagle The freshening breeze of eve unfurled that banner's massy fold; [gold; The parting gleam of sunshine kissed that haughty scroll of Night sank upon the dusky beach, and on the purple sea, Such night in England ne'er had been, nor e'er again shall be. Macaulay. The Fire-King. BOLD knights and fair dames, to my harp give an ear, And you haply may sigh, in the midst of your glee, At the tale of Count Albert, and fair Rosalie. P |