"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 havock 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 bless'd our chief,
That he gave her wounds repose;
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 woeful sight,
Where the fires of funeral light
Died away.

Now joy, old England, raise!
For the tidings of thy might,
By the festal cities' blaze,

While 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:

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!

HUNTING SONG.

SIR W. SCOTT.

WAKEN, lords and ladies gay,

On the mountain dawns the day,

All the jolly chase is here,

With hawk, and horse, and hunting spear;

Hounds are in their couples yelling,
Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling,
Merrily, merrily mingle they,
"Waken, lords and ladies gay."

Waken, lords and ladies gay,

The mist has left the mountain gray,
Springlets in the dawn are steaming,
Diamonds on the brake are gleaming:
And foresters have busy been,
To track the buck in thicket green;
Now we come to chant our lay,
'Waken, lords and ladies gay."

Waken, lords and ladies gay,
To the green-wood haste away;
We can show you where he lies,
Fleet of foot, and tall of size ;
We can show the marks he made,
When 'gainst the oak his antlers fray'd;
You shall see him brought to bay,

66

'Waken, lords and ladies gay."

Louder, louder chant the lay,
Waken, lords and ladies gay

Tell them youth, and mirth, and glee
Run a course as well as we;

Time, stern huntsman who can balk,

Stanch as hound, and fleet as hawk;
Think of this, and rise with day,

Gentle lords and ladies gay.

THE WRECK.

MRS. HEMANS.

ALL night the booming minute-gun
Had peal'd along the deep,
And mournfully the rising sun
Look'd o'er the tide-worn steep.
A bark from India's coral strand,
Before the rushing blast,

Had vail'd her topsails to the sand,
And bow'd her noble mast.

The queenly ship! brave hearts had striven,

And true ones died with her!

We saw her mighty cable riven,

Like floating gossamer;

We saw her proud flag struck that morn,

A star once o'er the seas,

Her helm beat down, her deck uptorn,
And sadder things than these.

We saw her treasures cast away;
The rocks with pearl were sown :
And, strangely sad, the ruby's ray
Flash'd out o'er fretted stone;

And gold was strewn the wet sands o'er,
Like ashes by a breeze,

And gorgeous robes-but, oh! that shore

Had sadder sights than these!

We saw the strong man, still and low,

A crush'd reed thrown aside !
Yet, by that rigid lip and brow,
Not without strife he died!
And near him on the sea-weed lay,
Till then we had not wept,
But well our gushing hearts might say,
That there a mother slept!

For her pale arms a babe had press'd
With such a wreathing grasp,
Billows had dash'd o'er that fond breast,

Yet not undone the clasp.

Her very tresses had been flung

To wrap the fair child's form,

Where still their wet, long streamers clung, All tangled by the storm.

And beautiful, 'midst that wild scene,

Gleam'd up the boy's dead face,

Like slumbers, trustingly serene,

In melancholy grace,

Deep in her bosom lay his head,
With half-shut violet eye;
He had known little of her dread,
Nought of her agony !

Oh, human love! whose yearning heart,

Through all things vainly true,

So stamps upon thy mortal part
Its passionate adieu!