SUMMER WOODS.

There come the little gentle birds,
Without a fear of ill;

Down to the murmuring water's edge,
And freely drink their fill;

And dash about and splash about

The merry little things!

And look askance with bright black eyes, And flirt their dripping wings.

I've seen the freakish squirrels drop
Down from their leafy tree,

The little squirrels with the old,

Great joy it was to me!

And down unto the running brook

I've seen them nimbly go;

And the bright water seem'd to speak

A welcome kind and low.

The nodding plants they bow'd their heads,

As if, in heartsome cheer,

They spake unto those little things,

""Tis merry living here!"

Oh, how my heart ran o'er with joy!

I saw that all was good,

And how we might glean up delight

All round us, if we would!

And many a wood-mouse dwelleth there,
Beneath the old wood-shade.

And all day long has work to do,

Nor is of aught afraid.

SUMMER WOODS.

The green shoots grow above their heads, And roots so fresh and fine

Beneath their feet; nor is there strife 'Mong them for mine and thine.

There is enough for every one,
And they lovingly agree:
We might learn a lesson, all of us,

Beneath the green-wood tree.

A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA.

A WET sheet and a flowing sea,

A wind that follows fast,

And fills the white and rustling sail,

And bends the gallant mast.

And bends the gallant mast, my boys,
While, like the eagle free,

Away the good ship flies, and leaves
Old England on the lee.

O, for a soft and gentle wind!

I heard a fair one cry;

But give to me the swelling breeze,
And white waves heaving high.

The white waves heaving high, my lads,
The good ship tight and free,-
The world of waters is our home,
And merry men are we.

There's tempest in yon horned moon,

And lightning in yon cloud; And hark, the music, mariners! The wind is wakening loud

The wind is wakening loud, my boys,

The lightning flashes free,

The hollow oak our palace is,

Our heritage the sea.

THE SPANISH ARMADA.

ATTEND, all
who list to hear our noble England's praise;
ye
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 Castile's black fleet, beyond Aurigny's isle,
At earliest twilight, on the waves lie heaving many a mile;
At sunrise she escaped their van, by God's especial 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 stalk'd he when he turn'd to flight, on that famed Picard field,
Bohemia's plume, and Genoa's bow, and Cæsar's eagle shield :