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THE WEE HOUSE.

JAMES HOGG.

I like thee weel, my wee auld house,
Tho' laigh thy wa's an' flat the riggin,
Though round thy lum the sourock grows,
An' rain-draps gaw my cozy biggin',
Lang hast thou happit mine and me,

My head's grown grey aneath thy kipple, And aye the ingle cheek was free

Baith to the blind man an' the cripple.

What gart my ewes thrive on the hill,
An' kept my little store increasin'?
The rich man never wish'd me ill,

The poor man left me aye his blessin'.
Troth I maun greet wi' thee to part,
Though to a better house I'm flittin';
Sic joys will never glad my heart

As I've had by this hallan sittin'.

My bonny bairns around me smiled,
My sonsy wife sat by me spinning,
Aye lilting o'er her ditties wild,

In notes sae artless an' sae winning.
Our frugal meal was aye a feast,

Our e’ening psalm a hymn of joy ; Sae calm an' peacefu' was our rest, Our bliss, our love, without alloy.

I canna help but haud thee dear,

My auld, storm-batter'd, hamely shieling; Thy sooty lum, an' kipples clear

I better love than gaudy ceiling. Thy roof will fa', thy rafters start,

How damp an' cauld thy hearth will be! Ah! sae will soon ilk honest heart,

That erst was blithe and bauld in thee!

I thought to cower aneath thy wa',
"Till death should close my weary een,
Then leave thee for the narrow ha',

Wi' lowly roof o' sward sae green.
Fareweel my house an' burnie clear,

My bourtree bush an' bowzy tree! The wee while I maun sojourn here, I'll never find a hame like thee.

BATTLE OF THE BALTIC.

THOMAS CAMPBELL.

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.-

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Like Leviathans afloat,

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.-

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 the ships,

Like the hurricane eclipse

Of the sun.

Again! again! again!

And the havock 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 :-

'So peace instead of death let us bring;

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But yield, proud foe, thy fleet,

'With the crews, at England's feet,
And make submission meet

To our King.'

Then Denmark bless'd 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 smiling bright

O'er a wide and woeful sight,

Where the fires of funeral light

Died away.

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 !

Brave hearts! to Britain's pride
Once so faithful and so true,
On the deck of fame that died ;-
With the gallant good Riou: *

Captain Riou, justly entitled the gallant and the good, by Lord Nelson, when he wrote home his dispatches.

Soft sigh the winds of Heaven o'er their grave!
While the billow mournful rolls,
And the mermaid's song condoles,
Singing glory to the souls
Of the brave!

YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND.

THOMAS CAMPBELL.

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 thro' the deep,

While the stormy tempests blow;

While the battle rages loud and long,

And the stormy tempests blow.

The spirits of your fathers

Shall start from every wave!

For the deck it was their field of fame,
And Ocean was their grave:

Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell,

Your manly hearts shall glow,

As ye sweep thro' the deep,
While the stormy tempests blow,
While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy tempests blow.

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