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15 And the hare whom they pursue Hath an instinct what to do ; Her hope is near : no turn she makes ; But like an arrow to the river takes. Deep the river was, and crusted Thinly by a one night's frost; But the nimble hare bath trusted To the ice, and safely crost; She hath crost, and without heed All are following at full speed, When, lo, the ice, so thinly spread, Breaks—and the greyhound, Dart, is overhead ! Better fate have Prince and Swallow See them cleaving to the sport ! Music hath no heart to follow, Little Music she stops short. She hath neither wish nor heart; Hers is now another part; A loving creature she and brave, And fondly strives her struggling friend to save. From the brink her paws she stretches, Very hands as you would say ! And afflicting moans she fetches, As she breaks the ice away. For herself she hath no fears,— Him alone she sees and hears,— Makes efforts and complainings, nor gives o'er Until her fellow sank and re-appeared no more.
TO THE BRAMBLE-FLOWER. Thy fruit full well the schoolboy knows,
Wild bramble of the brake! So put thou forth thy small white rose,
I love it for his sake.
Though woodbines flaunt and roses glow
O’er all the fragrant bowers,
Thy satin-threaded flowers :
For dull the eye, the heart is dull,
That cannot feel how fair, Amid all beauty beautiful,
Thy tender blossoms are.
How delicate thy gauzy frill!
How rich thy branchy stem ! How soft thy voice, when woods are still,
And thou sing'st hymns to them !
And, 'mid the general hush,
Lone whispering through the bush !
The hawthorn-flower is dead ; The violet by the moss'd grey stone
Hath laid her weary head.
But thou, wild bramble ! back dost bring,
In all their beauteous power,
And boyhood's blossomy hour.
Thou bid'st me be a boy,
In freedom and in joy.
ATTEND, all ye who list to hear our noble Eng
land's praise ; I tell of the thrice-famous deeds she wrought in
ancient days, When that great fleet invincible against her bore,
in vain, The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts of
Spain. It was about the lovely close of a warm summer
day, There came a gallant merchant-ship full sail to
Plymouth Bay; Her crew hath seen Castille's black fleet, beyond
Aurigny's isle, At earliest twilight, on the waves lie heaving many
At sunrise she escaped their van, by God's espe.
cial grace; And the tall Pinta, till the noon, had held her
close in chase. Forthwith a guard at every gun was placed along
the wall; The beacon blazed upon the roof of Edgecumbe’s
lofty hall; Many a light fishing-bark put out to pry along
the coast; And with loose rein and bloody spur rode inland
many a post. With his white hair unbonneted, the stout old
sheriff comes ; Behind him march the halberdiers, before him
sound the drums; His yeomen, round the market-cross, make clear
an ample space, For there behoves him to set up the standard of
her Grace. And haughtily the trumpets peal, and gaily dance
the bells, As slow upon the labouring wind the royal blazon
swells. Look how the lion of the sea lifts up his ancient
crown, And underneath his deadly paw treads the gay
lilies down. So stalked he when he turned to flight, on that
famed Picard field, Bohemia’s plume, and Genoa's bow, and Cæsar's
So glared he when at Agincourt in wrath he
turned to bay, And crushed and torn, beneath his claws, the
princely hunters lay. Ho! strike the flag-staff deep, sir knight : ho!
scatter flowers, fair maids : Ho! gunners, fire a loud salute : ho! gallants,
draw your blades : Thou sun, shine on her joyously—ye breezes, waft
her wide; Our glorious SEMPER EADEM—the banner of our
pride. The freshening breeze of eve unfurled that ban
ner's massy fold; The parting gleam of sunshine kissed that haughty
scroll of gold; Night sank upon the dusky beach, and on the
purple sea, Such night in England ne'er had been, nor e'er
again shall be. From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, from Lynn
to Milford Bay, That time of slumber was as bright and busy as
the day ; For swift to east and swift to west the warning
radiance spread; High on St. Michael's Mount it shone-it shone
on Beachy Head. Far on the deep the Spaniard saw, along each
southern shire, Cape beyond cape, in endless range, those twink
ling points of fire ;