It was ten of April morn by the chime :

As they drifted on their path

15

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 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.

25

25

390

35

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 :

40

XLV.

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,

45

As death withdrew his shades from the day: 50
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,

55

By the festal cities' blaze,

Whilst 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 :

60

65

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!

70

T. Campbell.

ODE TO DUTY.

Stern Daughter of the Voice of God!
O Duty! if that name thou love
Who art a light to guide, a rod
To check the erring, and reprove ;

CCLII.

Thou who art victory and law

5

When empty terrors overawe;

From vain temptations dost set free,

And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity!

There are who ask not if thine eye
Be on them; who, in love and truth
Where no misgiving is, rely
Upon the genial sense of youth:
Glad hearts! without reproach or blot,
Who do thy work, and know it not:
Oh! if through confidence misplaced

They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power ! around them

cast.

Serene will be our days and bright

And happy will our nature be

When love is an unerring light,

And joy its own security.

20

And they a blissful course may hold

Live in the spirit of this creed ;

I, loving freedom, and untried,

Ev'n now, who, not unwisely bold,

Yet seek thy firm support, according to their need.

No sport of every random gust,

Yet being to myself a guide,

Too blindly have reposed my trust:

And oft, when in my heart was heard

Thy timely mandate, I deferr'd

30

The task, in smoother walks to stray;

But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I

I long for a repose that ever is the same.

40

Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear
The Godhead's most benignant grace;
Nor know we anything so fair
As is the smile upon thy face:

Flowers laugh before thee on their beds,
And fragrance in thy footing treads

s;

Thou dost preserve the Stars from wrong;

45

And the most ancient Heavens, through Thee, are fresh and strong.

To humbler functions, awful Power!

I call thee: I myself commend

Unto thy guidance from this hour;
Oh let my weakness have an end!
Give unto me, made lowly wise,
The spirit of self-sacrifice;
The confidence of reason give;

And in the light of truth thy Bondman let me live.

W. Wordsworth.

50

55

XLVI.

CCLIII.

ON THE CASTLE OF CHILLON.

Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind!
Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art,
For there thy habitation is the heart-
The heart which love of Thee alone can bind;
And when thy sons to fetters are consign'd,
To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom,
Their country conquers with their martyrdom,
And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind.
Chillon thy prison is a holy place

And thy sad floor an altar, for 'twas trod,
Until his very steps have left a trace

Worn as if thy cold pavement were a sod,

By Bonnivard! May none those marks efface !
For they appeal from tyranny to God.

XLVII.

Lord Byron.

ENGLAND AND SWITZERLAND, 1802.
Two Voices are there; one is of the Sea,
One of the Mountains; each a mighty voice :
In both from age to age thou didst rejoice,
They were thy chosen music, Liberty!

5

10

CCLIV.

There came a tyrant, and with holy glee

5

Thou fought'st against him,-but hast vainly striven:
Thou from Thy Alpine holds at length art driven,
Where not a torrent murmurs heard by thee.

-Of one deep bliss thine ear hath been bereft ;
Then cleave, O cleave to that which still is left 10
For, high-soul'd Maid, what sorrow would it be

That Mountain floods should thunder as before,
And Ocean bellow from his rocky shore,
And neither awful Voice be heard by Thee!
W. Wordsworth.

XLVIII.

CCLV.

ON THE EXTINCTION OF THE VENETIAN

REPUBLIC.

Once did She hold the gorgeous East in fee
And was the safeguard of the West; the worth
Of Venice did not fall below her birth,
Venice, the eldest child of Liberty.

She was a maiden city, bright and free;
No guile seduced, no force could violate;
And when she took unto herself a mate,
She must espouse the everlasting Sea.

5

And what if she had seen those glories fade,
Those titles vanish, and that strength decay,-
Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid

10

When her long life hath reach'd its final day:
Men are we, and must grieve when even the shade
Of that which once was great is pass'd away.
W. Wordsworth.

O Friend! I know not which way I must look
For comfort, being, as I am, opprest

To think that now our life is only drest

For show; mean handy-work of craftsman, cook,

CCLVI.