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And from beneath a sheltering ivy leaf
Takes glimpses of thee; thou art a relief'
To the poor patient oyster, where it sleeps
Within its pearly house.—The mighty deeps,
The monstrous sea is thine-the myriad sea !
O Moon ! far spooming Ocean bows to thee,
And Tellus feels her forehead's cumbrous load.

Thomas Campbell. 1777-1844. (Manual, p. 444.) 304. FROM THE PLEASURES OF HOPE.'

HOPE BEYOND THE GRAVE. Unfading HOPE! when life's last embers burn, When soul to soul, and dust to dust return! Heaven to thy charge resigns the awful hour! Oh! then, thy kingdom comes! Immortal Power! What though each spark of earth-born rapture fly The quivering lip, pale cheek, and closing eye! Bright to the soul thy seraph hands convey The morning dream of life's eternal dayThen, then, the triumph and the trance begin, And all the phenix spirit burns within !

Oh! deep-enchanting prelude to repose, The dawn of bliss, the twilight of our woes ! Yet half I hear the panting spirit sigh, It is a dread and awful thing to die ! Mysterious worlds, untravell’d by the sun, Where Time's far wandering tide has never run, From your unfathom'd shades, and viewless spheres A warning comes, unheard by other ears. 'Tis Heaven's commanding trumpet, long and loud, Like Sinai's thunder, pealing from the cloud ! While Nature hears, with terror-mingled trust, The shock that hurls her fabric to the dust; And, like the trembling Hebrew, when he trod The roaring waves, and call d upon his God, With mortal terrors clouds immortal bliss, And shrieks and hovers o'er the dark abyss !

Daughter of Faith! awake, arise, illume The dread unknown, the chaos of the tomb; Melt and dispel, ye spectre-doubts, that roll Cimmerian darkness o'er the parting soul!

Fly, like the moon-eyed herald of Dismay,
Chased on his night-steed by the star of day!
The strife is o'er—the pangs of Nature close,
And life's last rapture triumphs o'er her woes.
Hark! as the spirit eyes, with eagle gaze,
The noon of Heaven undazzled by the blaze ;
On heavenly winds that waft her to the sky,
Float the sweet tones of star-born melody;
Wild as that hallow'd anthem sent to hail
Bethlehem's shepherds in the lonely vale,
When Jordan hush'd his waves, and midnight still
Watch'd on the holy towers of Zion hill !

305. THE SOLDIER'S DREAM.

Our bugles sang truce—for the night-cloud had lower'd,

And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky; And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowerd,

The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die. When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,

By the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the slain, At the dead of the night a sweet vision 1 saw,

And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again. Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array,

Far, far I had roam'd on a desolate track; 'Twas Autumn-and sunshine arose on the way

To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft

In life’s morning march, when my bosom was young; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,

And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung. Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore From my

home and my weeping friends never to part; My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o’er,

And my wife sobb’d aloud in her fulness of heart. Stay, stay with us-rest, thou art weary and worn;

And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay : But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn,

And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.

306. BATTLE OF THE BALTIC.

**

Of Nelson and the North,
Since 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 havock 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,
While 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 !
Brave hearts ! to Britain's pride
Once so faithful and so true,
On the deck of fame that died ;-
With the gallant good Riou : 1
Soft sigh the winds of Heaven o'er their grave !
While the billow mournful rolls
And the mermaid's song condoles,
Singing glory to the souls
Of the brave !

307. YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND :

A Naval Ode.

Ye Mariners of England'!
That guard our native seas;
Whose flag has braved, a thousand years,
The battle and the breeze!

Captain Riou, justly entitled the gallant and the good, by Lord Nelson, when he te home his despatches.

Your glorious standard launch again
To match another foe!
And sweep through the deep,
While the stormy tempests blow;
While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy tempests blow.
The spirits of your fathers
Shall start from every wavel-
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 tempests blow;
While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy tempests blow.
Britannia needs no bulwark,
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 tempests blow :
When the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy tempests 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.

308. HOHENLINDEN. On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay th' untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

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