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Out spoke the hardy Highland wight, chief-I'm ready :
"I'll go my
It is not for your silver bright,
And, by my word! the bonny bird
By this the storm grew loud apace,
The water-wraith was shrieking; And, in the scowl of heaven, each face Grew dark as they were speaking. But still as wilder blew the wind,
And as the night grew drearer, Adown the glen rode armèd men,
Their trampling sounded nearer.
"O haste thee, haste!" the lady cries,
The boat has left a stormy land,
And still they rowed, amidst the roar
Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore
For sore dismayed, through storm and shade, His child he did discover!
One lovely arm was stretched for aid,
"Come back! come back!" he cried in grief, "Across this stormy water;
And I'll forgive your Highland chief-
'Twas vain the loud waves lashed the shore, Return or aid preventing:
The waters wild went o'er his child-
THE BATTLE OF HOHENLINDEN.
ON Linden, when the sun was low,
But Linden saw another sight,
By torch and trumpet fast arrayed,
To join the dreadful revelry.
Then shook the hills with thunder riven !
But redder yet that light shall glow
'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun
Shout in their sulphurous canopy.
On, ye brave,
The combat deepens.
Few, few shall part where many meet!
YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND.
YE Mariners of England! That guard our native seas; Whose flag has braved a thousand years The battle and the breeze. Your glorious standard launch again To match another foe!
And sweep through the deep,
The spirit of your fathers
As ye sweep through the deep,
Britannia needs no bulwark,
With thunders from her native oak,
As they roar on the shore,
When the stormy winds do blow;
The meteor-flag of England
To the fame of your name,
THE BATTLE OF THE BALTIC
OF Nelson and the North,
Sing the glorious day's renown,
All the might of Denmark's crown,
And her arms along the deep proudly shone;
Like leviathans afloat
Lay their bulwarks on the brine;
On the lofty British line:
Or the battle of Copenhagen, in which Sir Hyde Parker and Nelson captured and destroyed the whole of the Danish fleet (1801).
It was ten of April morn by the chime :
But the might of England flushed
And her van the fleeter rushed
"Hearts of oak!" our captains cried; when each
From its adamantine lips,
Spread a death-shade round the ships,
Of the sun.
Again! again! again!
And the havock did not slack,
To our cheering, sent us back :-
Out spoke the victor then,
As he hailed them o'er the wave; "Ye are brothers; ye are men !
And we conquer but to save :—
To our king."
Then Denmark blessed our chief,