BATTLE OF THE BALTIC.

I.

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.—

II.

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.-

'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; 'Ye are brothers! ye are men!

And the sounds of joy and grief

From her people wildly rose,

As death withdrew his shades from the day.

While the sun look'd smiling bright

O'er a wide and woful sight,

Where the fires of funeral light

Died away.

VII.

Now joy, old England, raise !
For the tidings of thy might,
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 !-

VIII.

Brave hearts! to Britain's pride

Once so faithful and so true,

On the deck of fame that died,

With the gallant good Riou:

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 !

A THOUGHT SUGGESTED BY THE NEW YEAR.

[THE RIVER OF LIFE.]

The more we live, more brief appear

Our life's succeeding stages:

A day to childhood seems a year,
And years like passing ages.

The gladsome current of our youth,
Ere passion yet disorders,

Steals, lingering like a river smooth
Along its grassy borders.

But, as the care-worn cheek grows wan,
And sorrow's shafts fly thicker,

Ye stars, that measure life to man,

Why seem your courses quicker?

When joys have lost their bloom and breath,

And life itself is vapid,

Why, as we reach the Falls of death,

Feel we its tide more rapid?

It may be strange-yet who would change

Time's course to slower speeding;

When one by one our friends have gone,

And left our bosoms bleeding?

Heaven gives our years of fading strength

Indemnifying fleetness;

And those of youth, a seeming length,

Proportioned to their sweetness.

5

10

15

20

TO A SKYLARK.

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 :

Yet might'st thou seem, proud privilege! to sing

All independent of the leafy spring.]

Leave to the nightingale her shady wood;

5

10

A privacy of glorious light is thine;

Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood

15

Of harmony, with instinct more divine:

Type of the wise who soar, but never roam;

True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home!