For a heart of oak is hanging on every blow, I

bode,

And I see the good ship riding, all in a perilous

road;

The low reef roaring on her lee, the roll of ocean

pour'd

From stem to stern, sea after sea, the mainmast by the board;

The bulwarks down, the rudder gone, the boats. stove at the chains,

But courage still, brave mariners, the bower still

remains,

And not an inch to flinch he deigns save when ye pitch sky-high,

Then moves his head, as though he said, "Fear nothing-here am I!"

Swing in your strokes in order, let foot and hand keep time,

Your blows make music sweeter far than any steeple's chime!

But while ye swing your sledges, sing; and let the burden be,

The Anchor is the Anvil King, and royal craftsmen

we;

Strike in, strike in, the sparks begin to dull their rustling red!

Our hammers ring with sharper din, our work will soon be sped;

Our anchor soon must change his bed of fiery rich

array,

For a hammock at the roaring bows, or an oozy couch of clay;

Our anchor soon must change the lay of merry

craftsmen here,

For the Yeo-heave-o, and the Heave-away, and the sighing seaman's cheer;

Then weighing slow, at eve they go, far, far from love and home,

And sobbing sweethearts, in a row, wail o'er the ocean foam.

In livid and obdurate gloom, he darkens down at last,

A shapely one he is and strong, as e'er from cat

was cast.

A trusted and trustworthy guard, if thou hadst life

like me,

What pleasures would thy toils reward beneath the deep green sea!

O deep sea-diver, who might then behold such sights as thou?

The hoary monsters' pałaces! methinks what joy

'twere now

To go plump plunging down amid the assembly of the whales,

And feel the churned sea round me boil beneath their scourging tails!

Then deep in tangle-woods to fight the fierce seaunicorn,

And send him foil'd and bellowing back, for all his ivory horn;

To leave the subtle sworder-fish, of bony blade for

lorn,

And for the ghastly grinning shark, to laugh his

jaws to scorn;

To leap down on the kraken's back, where 'mid Norwegian isles

He lies, a lubber anchorage, for sudden shallow'd miles;

Till snorting, like an under-sea volcano, off he rolls, Meanwhile to swing, a buffeting the far-astonish'd

shoals

Of his back-browsing ocean-calves; or haply in a

cove,

Shell-strown and consecrate of old to some Undine's love,

To find the long-hair'd mermaidens; or, hard by icy lands,

To wrestle with the sea-serpent, upon cerulean sands.

O broad-arm'd Fisher of the deep, whose sports can equal thine ?

The Dolphin weighs a thousand tons that tugs thy cable line:

And night by night 'tis thy delight, thy glory day by day,

Through sable sea and breaker white, the giant game to play;

But, shamer of our little sports! forgive the name

I gave,

A fisher's joy is to destroy,-thine office is to save.

O lodger in the sea-king's halls, couldst thou but understand

Whose be the white bones by thy side, or who that dripping band,

Slow swaying in the heaving wave, that round about thee bend,

With sounds like breakers in a dream, blessing their ancient friend

Oh, couldst thou know what heroes glide with larger steps round thee,

Thine iron side would swell with pride, thou'dst leap within the sea!

Give honour to their memories who left the pleasant

strand,

To shed their blood so freely for the love of Father

land

Who left their chance of quiet age and grassy churchyard grave

So freely, for a restless bed amid the tossing waveOh, though our anchor may not be all I have fondly

sung,

Honour him for their memory, whose bones he goes among!

BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE.

Robin Goodfellow.

MORE Swift than lightning can I fly

About this aëry welkin soon,

And in a minute's space descry

Each thing that's done below the moon:

There's not a hag

Or ghost shall wag,

Or cry," Ware goblin!" where I go;
But Robin I

Their feats will spy,

And send them home with Ho! ho! ho!

Whene'er such wanderers I meet,

As from their night sports they trudge home; With counterfeiting voice I greet,

And call on them with me to roam

Through woods, through lakes,

Through bogs, through brakes;

Or else unseen with them I go,
All in the nick,

To play some trick,

And frolic it with Ho! ho! ho!

Sometimes I meet them like a man;

Sometimes an ox, sometimes a hound;
And to a horse I turn me can,

And trip and trot about them round;
But if to ride,

My back to stride,

More swift than wind away I go,
O'er hedge and lands,

Through pools and ponds,

I whirry, laughing Ho! ho! ho!

When lads and lasses

merry be,

With possets and rich juncates fine,
Unseen of all the company,

I eat their cakes and sip their wine.
And to make sport,

I puff and snort,