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, The boat has left a stormy land, When, oh! too strong for human hand, And still they row'd amidst the roar Lord Ullin reach'd that fatal shore, His wrath was changed to wailing.— For sore dismay'd, through storm and shade, One lovely hand she stretch'd for aid, "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 VI.-THE BATTLE OF THE BALTIC. 1809. 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; In a bold determined hand, And the Prince of all the land Like leviathans afloat, II. Lay their bulwarks on the brine ; 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: With the crews, at England's feet, To our King."— VI. Then Denmark bless'd our chief, As death withdrew his shades from the day. O'er a wide and woeful sight, Where the fires of funeral light Died away. VII. Now joy, old England, raise! While the wine-cup shines in light; Let us think of them that sleep, By thy wild and stormy steep, VIII. Brave hearts! to Britain's pride On the deck of fame that died,— With the gallant good Riou; Soft sigh the winds of heaven o'er their grave! Of the brave ! VII. THE LAST MAN. LL worldly shapes shall melt in gloom, AL The Sun himself must die, Before this mortal shall assume I saw a vision in my sleep, . That gave my spirit strength to sweep Adown the gulf of Time! I saw the last of human mould That shall creation's death behold, As Adam saw her prime! The Sun's eye had a sickly glare, Some had expired in fight,—the brands In plague and famine some! Earth's cities had no sound nor tread; Yet, prophet-like, that lone one stood That shook the sere leaves from the wood Saying, "We are twins in death, proud Sun! 'Tis Mercy bids thee go; For thou ten thousand thousand years Hast seen the tide of human tears, That shall no longer flow. "What though beneath thee man put forth His pomp, his pride, his skill; And arts that made fire, flood, and earth, Yet mourn I not thy parted sway, And triumphs that beneath thee sprang, Entail'd on human hearts. |