'T was autumn,-and sunshine arose on the way To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. 12 I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft young; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn reapers sung. Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore, 16 From my home and my weeping friends never to part; My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er, And my wife sobbed aloud in her fulness of heart. "Stay, stay with us,-rest, thou art weary and worn!" And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay; 20 But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreaming ear melted 1800. away. Thomas Campbell. 24 HOHENLINDEN ON Linden, when the sun was low, Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, By torch and trumpet fast array'd To join the dreadful revelry. Then shook the hills with thunder riven; But redder yet that light shall glow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Shout in their sulph'rous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Few, few shall part, where many meet!> And 1800. 24 28 1 32 Thomas Campbell. THE BATTLE OF THE BALTIC OF Nelson and the North, When to battle fierce came forth All the might of Denmark's crown, In a bold determined hand, And the Prince of all the land Led them on. Like leviathans afloat, It was ten of April morn by the chime: There was silence deep as death; But the might of England flush'd O'er the deadly space between. "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 havoc 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: 18 27 36 So peace instead of death let us bring; With the crews, at England's feet, To our King." Then Denmark bless'd our chief, f 41 As Death withdrew his shades from the day. While the sun look'd smiling bright O'er a wide and woful sight,' Where the fires of funeral light Died away. Now joy, old England, raise! Whilst the wine-cup shines in light; Brave hearts! to Briton's pride Soft sigh the winds of Heaven o'er their grave! 54 63 |