Since earthly eye but ill can bear I know not if I could have borne The night that follow'd such a morn As stars that shoot along the sky As once I wept if I could weep, To gaze, how fondly! on thy face, Yet how much less it were to gain, And more thy buried love endears Lord Byron CCIII One word is too often profaned For me to profane it, One feeling too falsely disdain'd For thee to disdain it. One hope is too like despair I can give not what men call love ; P. B. Shelley CCIV GATHERING SONG OF DONALD THE BLACK Pibroch of Donuil Dhu Pibroch of Donuil Come from deep glen, and True heart that wears one, Leave untended the herd, Leave the deer, leave the steer, Come as the winds come, when Come as the waves come, when Navies are stranded : Chief, vassal, page and groom, Fast they come, fast they come; Cast your plaids, draw your blades, Pibroch of Donuil Dhu Knell for the onset ! Sir W. Scott CCV 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! I heard a fair one cry; But give to me the snoring breeze And white waves heaving high; And white waves heaving high, my lads, The good ship tight and freeThe world of waters is our home, And merry men are we. There's tempest in yon hornéd moon, A. Cunningham CCVI Ye Mariners of England That guard our native seas! Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, Your glorious standard launch again 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, Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell Britannia needs no bulwarks 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, The meteor flag of England Till danger's troubled night depart When the storm has ceased to blow; T. Campbell CCVII BATTLE OF THE BALTIC Of Nelson and the North 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 And her van the fleeter rush'd |