While they drink out of skulls newly torn from

the grave,

Dancing round them pale spectres are seen : Their liquor is blood, and this horrible stave They howl:-"To the health of Alonzo the

Brave,

And his consort, the False Imogine!"

M. G. LEWIS (The Monk).

Lord Ullin's Daughter

A CHIEFTAIN, to the Highlands bound,
Cries, "Boatman, do not tarry!
And I'll give thee a silver pound
To row us o'er the ferry.”—

"Now who be ye would cross Lochgyle,
This dark and stormy water?"

"O, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,

And this Lord Ullin's daughter.

"And fast before her father's men
Three days we've fled together,
For should he find us in the glen,
My blood would stain the heather.

"His horsemen hard behind us ride;
Should they our steps discover,
Then who will cheer my bonny bride

When they have slain her lover?"

:

Out spoke the hardy Highland wight,
"I'll go, my chief—I'm ready :
It is not for your silver bright;
But for your winsome lady :

"And by my word! the bonny bird In danger shall not tarry;

So though the waves are raging white, I'll row you o'er the ferry.”—

By this the storm grew loud apace, The water-wraith was shrieking; And in the scowl of Heaven each face Grew dark as they were speaking.

But still as wilder blew the wind,
And as the night grew drearer,
Adown the glen rode armed men,
Their trampling sounded nearer.-

"O haste thee, haste!" the lady cries, "Though tempests round us gather; I'll meet the raging of the skies, father."

But not an angry

The boat has left a stormy land,

A stormy sea before her,

When, oh! too strong for human hand, The tempest gather'd o'er her.

And still they row'd amidst the roar

Of waters fast prevailing ;

Lord Ullin reach'd that fatal shore,

His wrath was changed to wailing.

For sore dismay'd, through storm and shade,

His child he did discover ;

One lovely hand she stretch'd for aid,

And one was round her lover.

"Come back! come back!" he cried in grief, "Across this stormy water;

And I'll forgive your Highland chief,
My daughter!-Oh my daughter!"—

'Twas vain:

the loud waves lash'd the shore,

Return or aid preventing :

The waters wild went o'er his child,

And he was left lamenting.

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,

II.

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.—

III.

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.

IV.

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.

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 ;-

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."—

VI.

Then Denmark bless'd our chief,

That he

gave

her wounds repose;

And the sounds of joy and grief

From her people wildly rose,