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OF 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;
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 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. -
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 blest our chief
That he gave her wounds repose ;
ETHEREAL minstrel ! pilgrim of the sky !
Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound?
Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye
Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground ?
Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will,
Those quivering wings composed, that music still!
[To the last point of vision, and beyond,
Mount, daring warbler! that love-prompted strain,
(Twixt thee and thine a never-failing bond)
Thrills not the less the bosom of the plain : 10
Yet might'st thou seem, proud privilege! to sing
All independent of the leafy spring. ]
Leave to the nightingale her shady wood;
A privacy of glorious light is thine ;
Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood
Of harmony, with instinct more divine :
Type of the wise who soar, but never roam ;
True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home!
WHY ART THOU SILENT? IS THY LOVE A
Why art thou silent? Is thy love a plant
Of such weak fibre that the treacherous air
Of absence withers what was once so fair ?
Is there no debt to pay, no boon to grant ?
Yet have my thoughts for thee been vigilant,
Bound to thy service with unceasing care,
The mind's least generous wish a mendicant
For nought but what thy happiness could spare.
Speak—though this soft warm heart, once free to
hold A thousand tender pleasures, thine and mine, 10 Be left more desolate, more dreary cold
Than a forsaken bird's-nest filled with snow
'Mid its own bush of leafless eglantine-
Speak, that my torturing doubts their end may
On Linden, when the sun was low,
All bloodless lay th' untrodden snow,
And dark as winter was the flow
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
But Linden saw another sight,
When the drum beat, at dead of night,
Commanding fires of death to light
The darkness of her scenery.
By torch and trumpet fast array'd,
Each horseman drew his battle-blade,
And furious every charger neigh’d,
To join the dreadful revelry.
Then shook the hills with thunder riven
Then rush'd the steed, to battle driven,
And louder than the bolts of heaven,
Far flash'd the red artillery.