And we laid them on the ballast down be- | And the rest they came aboard us, and low; For we brought them all aboard, And they blest him in their pain, that they were not left to Spain, To the thumbscrew and the stake, for the glory of the Lord. they fought us hand to hand, For a dozen times they came with their pikes and musqueteers, And a dozen time we shook 'em off as a dog that shakes his cars When he leaps from the water to the land. IX. And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea, But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty-three. Ship after ship, the whole night long, their high-built galleons came, Ship after ship, the whole night long, with her battle-thunder and flame; Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead and her shame. For some were sunk and many were shatter'd, and so could fight us no moreGod of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before? And the night went down, and the sun smiled out far over the summer sea, And the Spanish fleet with broken sides lay round us all in a ring; But they dared not touch us again, for they fear'd that we still could sting, So they watch'd what the end would be. And we had not fought them in vain, But in perilous plight were we, Seeing forty of our poor hundred were slain, And half of the rest of us maim'd for life In the crash of the cannonades and the desperate strife; And the sick men down in the hold wero most of them stark and cold, And the pikes were all broken or bent, and the powder was all of it spent; And the masts and the rigging were lying over the side; But Sir Richard cried in his English pride, 'We have fought such a fight for a day and a night As may never be fought again! We die-does it matter when? Sink me the ship, Master Gunner-sink her, split her in twain! Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands of Spain !' XII. And the gunner said 'Ay, ay,' but the seamen made reply: We have children, we have wives, And the Lord hath spared our lives. We will make the Spaniard promise, if we yield, to let us go; We shall live to fight again and to strike another blow.' And the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to the foe. XIII. And the stately Spanish men to their flagship bore him then, Where they laid him by the mast, old Sir Richard caught at last, And they praised him to his face with their courtly foreign grace; But he rose upon their decks, and he cried: 'I have fought for Queen and Faith like a valiant man and true; I have only done my duty as a man is bound to co: With a cheerful spirit I Sir Richard Grenville die!' And he fell upon their decks, and he died. XIV. And they stared at the dead that had been so valiant and true, And had holden the power and glory of Spain so cheap That he dared her with one little ship and his English few; Was he devil or man? He was devil for aught they knew, But they sank his body with honor down into the deep, And they mann'd the 'Revenge' with a swarthier alien crew. And away she sail'd with her loss and long'd for her own; When a wind from the lands they had ruin'd awoke from sleep, And the water began to heave and the weather to moan, And or ever that evening ended a great gale blew, And a wave like the wave that is raised by an earthquake grew, Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts and their flags, And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot-shatter'd navy of Spain, And the little 'Revenge' herscif went down by the island crags To be lost evermore in the main. THE DEFENCE OF LUCKNOW. L BANNER of England, not for a season, O banner of Britain, hast thou Floated in conquering battle or flapt to the battle-cry! Never with mightier glory than when we had rear'd thee on high Flying at top of the roofs in the ghastly siege of Lucknow Shot thro' the staff or the halyard, but ever we raised thee anew, And ever upon the topmost roof our banner of England blew. II. Frail were the works that defended the hold that we held with our lives Women and child en among us, God help them, our children and wives! Hold it we might-and for fifteen days or for twenty at most. 'Never surrender, I charge you, but every man die at his post!' Voice of the dead whom we loved, our we laid him that night in his grave. Every man die at his post!' and there hail'd on our houses and halls Death from their rifle-bullets, and death from their cannon-balls, Death in our innermost chamber, and death at our slight barricade, Death while we stood with the musket, and death while we stoopt to the spade, Death to the dying, and wounds to the wounded, for often there fell Striking the hospital wall, crashing thro' it, their hot and their shell, Death-for their spies were among us, their marksmen were told of our best, So that the brute bullet broke thro' the brain that could think for the rest; Bullets would sing by our foreheads, and bullets would rain at our feet III. Ay, but the foe sprung his mine many times, and it chanced on a day Soon as the blast of that underground thunderclap echo'd away, Dark thro' the smoke and the sulphur like so many fiends in their hellCannon-shot, musket-shot, voiley on vclley, and yell upon yell Fiercely on all the defences our myriad enemy fell. What have they done? where is it? Out ocean on every side Plunges and heaves at a bank that is daily drown'd by the tide So many thousands that if they be bold enough, who shall escape? Kill or be kill'd, live or die, they shal know we are soldiers and men! Ready! take aim at their leaders-their masses are gapp'd with our grapeBackward they reel like the wave, like the wave flinging forward again, Flying and foil'd at the last by the handful they could not subdue; And ever upon the topmost roof our banner of England blew. IV. Handful of men as we were, we were English in heart and in limb, Strong with the strength of the race to command, to obey, to endure, Each of us fought as if hope for the garrison hung but on him; Still-could we watch at all points? we were every day fewer and fewer. There was a whisper among us, but only a whisper that past: 'Children and wives-if the tigers leap into the fold unawares may outlive us at last Fire from ten thousand at once of the Every man die at his post-and the foe rebels that girdled us roundDeath at the glimpse of a finger from over the breadth of a street, Death from the heights of the mosque and the palace, and death in the ground! Mine? yes, a mine! Countermine! down, down! and creep thro' the hole! Keep the revolver in hand! You can hear him-the murderous mole. Quiet, ah! quiet-wait till the point of the pickaxe be thro! Click with the pick, coming nearer and nearer again than beforeNow let it speak, and you fire, and the dark pioneer is no more: And ever upon the topmost roof our banner of England blew. Better to fall by the hands that they love, than to fall into theirs!' Roar upon roar in a moment two mines by the enemy sprung Clove into perilous chasms our walls and our poor palisades. Rifleman, true is your heart, but be sure that your hand be as true! Sharp is the fire of assault, better aim'd are your flank fusilladesTwice do we hurl them to earth from the ladders to which they had clung, Twice from the ditch where they shelter we drive them with hand-grenades; And ever upon the topmost roof our banner of England blew. V. Then on another wild morning another wild earthquake out tore Clean from our lines of defence ten or twelve good paces or more. Rifleman, high on the roof, hidden there from the light of the sunOne has leapt up on the breach, crying out: Follow me, follow me!'Mark him-he falls! then another, and him too, and down goes he. Had they been bold enough then, who can tell but the traitors had won? Boardings and rafters and doors-an embrasure! make way for the gun! Now double-charge it with grape! It is charged and we fire, and they run. Praise to our Indian brothers, and let the dark face have his due! Thanks to the kindly dark faces who fought with us, faithful and few, Fought with the bravest among us, and drove them, and smote them, and slew, That ever upon the topmost roof our banner in India blew. VI. Men will forget what we suffer and not what we do. We can fight; But to be soldier all day and be sentinel all thro' the night Ever the mine and assault, our sallies, their lying alarms. Bugles and drums in the darkness, and shoutings and soundings to arms. Ever the labour of fifty that had to be done by five, Ever the marvel among us that one should be left alive, Ever the day with its traitorous death from the loop-holes around, Ever the night with its coffinless corpse to be laid in the ground. Heat like the mouth of a hell, or a deluge of cataract skies, Stench of old offal decaying, and infinite torment of flies, Thoughts of the breezes of May blowing over an English field, Cholera, scurvy, and fever, the wound that Lopping away of the limb by the pitifulwould not be heal'd, pitiless knife,— Torture and trouble in vain,-for it never could save us a life, Valour of delicate women who tended the Horror of women in travail among the hospital bed, Grief for our perishing children, and never dying and dead, a moment for grief, Toil and ineffable weariness, faltering hopes of relief, Havelock baffled, or beaten, or butcher'd for all that we knew Then day and night, day and night, comMillions of musket-bullets, and thousands ing down on the still-shatter'd walls of cannon-balls But ever upon the topmost roof our ban. ner of England blew. VII. Hark cannonade, fusillade! is it true what was told by the scout? Outram and Havelock breaking their way thro' the fell mutineers! Surely the pibroch of Europe is ringing again in our ears! All on a sudden the garrison utter a jubi lant shout, Havelock s glorious Highlanders answer with conquering cheers, Forth from their holes and their hidings our women and children come out, Blessing the wholesome white faces of Havelock's good fusileers, Kissing the war-harden'd hand of the Highlander wet with their tears! Dance to the pibroch!-saved! we are saved-is it you? is it you? Saved by the valour of Havelock, saved by the blessing of Heaven! 'Hold it for fifteen days!' we have held it for eighty-seven! And ever aloft on the palace roof the old banner of England blew. THE LOVER'S TALE. THE original preface to "The Lover's Tale" states that it was composed in my nineteenth year. Two only of the three parts then written were printed, when, feeling the imperfection of the poem, I withdrew it from the press. One of my friends, however, who, boy-like, admired the boy's work, distributed among our cominon associates of that hour some copies of these two parts, without my knowledge, without the omissions and amendments which I had in contemplation, and marred by the many misprints of the compositor. Seeing that these two parts have of late been mercilessly pirated, and that what I had deemed scarce worthy to live is not allowed to die, may I not be pardoned if I suffer the whole poem at last to come into the light, accompanied with a reprint of the sequel,-a work of my mature life," The Golden Supper"? \ May, 1879. ARGUMENT. Julian, whose cousin and foster sister, Camilla, has been wedded to his friend and rival, Lionel, endeavors to narrate the story of his own love for her, and the strange sequel. He speaks (in Parts II. and III.) of having been haunted by visions and the sound of bells, tolling for a funeral, and at last ringing for a marriage; but he breaks away, overcome, as he approaches the Event, and a witness to it completes the tale. I. HERE far away, seen from the topmost Tilling with purple gloom the vacancies rare sails, White as white clouds, floated from sky to Oh! pleasant breast of waters, quiet bay, The hills that watched thee, as Love In thine own essence, and delight thyse'f Even now the Goddess of the Tast, that The heart, and sometimes touches but one string That quivers, and is silent, and sometimes To some old melody, begins to play I come, great Mistress of the ear and eye: Have hollow'd out a deep and stormy strait The memory's vision hath a keener edge. Its pale pink shells-the summer-house That open'd on the pines with doors of glass, A mountain nest-the pleasure-boat that rock'd Light green with its own shadow, keel to Upon the dappled dimplings of the wave, O Love, O Hope! once Moved from the cloud of unforgotten things, That sometimes on the horizon of the mind Lies folded, often sweeps athwart in storm Flash upon flash they lighten thro' medays Of dewy dawning and the amber eyes |