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But things like that, you know, must be After a famous victory.

"Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won,

And our good Prince Eugene." "Why, 'twas a very wicked thing,"

Said little Wilhelmine.

"Nay, nay, my little girl," quoth he, "It was a famous victory.

"And everybody praised the Duke
Who this great fight did win."
"But what good came of it at last?"
Quoth little Peterkin.

"Why, that I cannot tell," said he,
"But 'twas a famous victory."

THE SCHOLAR.

My days among the Dead are past;
Around me I behold,

Where'er these casual eyes are cast,
The mighty minds of old :

My never-failing friends are they,
With whom I converse day by day.

With them I take delight in weal,
And seek relief in woe;

And while I understand and feel
How much to them I owe,

My cheeks have often been bedew'd
With tears of thoughtful gratitude.

My thoughts are with the Dead; with them
I live in long-past years,

Their virtues love, their faults condemn,
Partake their hopes and fears;

And from their lessons seek and find
Instruction with an humble mind.

My hopes are with the Dead ; anon
My place with them will be,
And I with them shall travel on
Through all futurity ;

Yet leaving here a name, I trust,
That will not perish in the dust.

THOMAS CAMPBELL.
Born, 1777; Died, 1844.

BATTLE OF THE BALTIC.

I.

OF Nelson and the North,

Sing the glorious day's renown,

When to battle fierce came forth

All the might of Denmark's crown,

And her arms along the deep proudly shone,

By each gun the lighted brand

In a bold determined hand,

And the Prince of all the land
Led them on.

Like leviathans afloat

II.

Lay their bulwarks on the brine;
While the sign of battle flew

On the lofty British line:

It was ten of April morn by the chime :
As they drifted on their path,

There was silence deep as death,

And the boldest held his breath
For a time.

III.

But the might of England flush'd
To anticipate the scene;

And her van the fleeter rush'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 our ships,

Like the hurricane eclipse

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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.

V.

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.

L

So peace instead of death let us bring;
But yield, proud foe, thy fleet,

With the crews, at England's feet,

And make submission meet

To our King."

VI.

Then Denmark blest our chief,

That he gave her wounds repose;

And the sounds of joy and grief

From her people wildly rose,

As Death withdrew his shades from the day;

While the sun look'd shining bright

O'er a wide and woeful sight,

Where the fires of funeral-light

Died away.

VII.

Now joy, old England, raise!
For the tidings of thy might,
By the festal cities' blaze,

While the wine-cup shines in light;

And yet amidst that joy and uproar,
Let us think of them that sleep,
Full many a fathom deep,
By thy wild and stormy steep,
Elsinore !

DEATH OF GERTRUDE.

"CLASP me a little longer on the brink

Of fate! while I can feel thy dear caress; And when this heart hath ceased to beat-O think, And let it mitigate thy woe's excess,

That thou hast been to me all tenderness, And friend to more than human friendship just. O! by that retrospect of happiness,

And by the hopes of an immortal trust,

God shall assuage thy pangs when I am laid in dust!

"Half I could bear, methinks, to leave this earth,

And thee, more loved than aught beneath the sun, If I had lived to smile but on the birth

Of one dear pledge; but shall there then be none, In future times,-no gentle little one, To clasp thy neck, and look, resembling me?

Yet seems it, even while life's last pulses run, A sweetness in the cup of death to be,

Lord of my bosom's love! to die beholding thee!"

YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND.

I.

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,

While the stormy winds do blow ;

While the battle rages loud and long,

And the stormy winds do blow.

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Shall start from every wave !

For the deck it was their field of fame,

And ocean was their grave;

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