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Avon! I gaze and know
The lesson emblem'd in thy varying way;
Kingdoms which long have stood, And slow to strength and power attain'd at last, Thus from the summit of high fortune's flood Ebb to their ruin'fast.
Thus like thy flow appears
Time's tardy course to manhood's envied stage;
HARK,-how the church bells' thundering harmony
For those who fell, 'twas in their country's cause,
There was one who died
In that day's glory, whose obscurer name
'Twas in the list of slaughter, and blest God
He, ocean deep, Now lies at rest. Be Thou her comforter Who art the widow's friend! Man does not know What a cold sickness made her blood run back When first she heard the tidings of the fight: Man does not know with what a dreadful hope She listened to the names of those who died:
Man does not know,—or, knowing, will not heed,— With what an agony of tenderness
She gazed upon her children, and beheld
His image who was gone. O God! be Thou,
THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM.
It was a summer evening,
Was sitting in the sun,
And by him sported on the green
She saw her brother Peterkin
Roll something large and round, Which he beside the rivulet
In playing there had found; He came to ask what he had found, That was so large, and smooth, and round.
Old Kaspar took it from the boy,
And then the old man shook his head,
""Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he, "Who fell in the great victory.
"I find them in the garden,
For there's many here about; And often when I go to plough,
The ploughshare turns them out! For many thousand men," said he, "Were slain in that great victory."
"Now tell us what 'twas all about,"
"Now tell us all about the war,
"It was the English," Kaspar cried,
"Who put the French to rout; But what they kill'd each other for,
I could not well make out. But every body said," quoth he, "That 'twas a famous victory.
"My father lived at Blenheim then,
So with his wife and child he fled,
"With fire and sword the country round Was wasted far and wide;
And many a childing mother then,
But things like that, you know, must be At every famous victory.
"They say it was a shocking sight After the field was won;
For many thousand bodies here
Lay rotting in the sun;
But things like that, you know, must be After a famous victory.
"Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won, And our good prince Eugene."
"Why, 'twas a very wicked thing!" Said little Wilhelmine.
"Nay-nay-my little girl," quoth he,
"And every body prais'd the Duke
Quoth little Peterkin.
"Why, that I cannot tell," said he,
TO A BEE.
THOU wert out betimes, thou busy, busy Bee!
Thou wert working late, thou busy, busy Bee!
When the Primrose of evening was ready to burst,
Thou art a miser, thou busy, busy Bee!
Thy summer in heaping and hoarding is spent