Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell
Your manly hearts shall glow
As ye sweep through the deep,
While the stormy tempests blow;
While the battle rages loud and long
And the stormy tempests blow.
Britannia needs no bulwarks,
No towers along the steep;
Her march is o'er the mountain waves,
Her home is on the deep.
With thunders from her native oak
She quells the floods below
As they roar on the shore,
When the stormy tempests blow;
When the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy tempests blow.
The meteor flag of England
Shall yet terrific burn,
Till danger-troubled night depart,
And the star of peace return.
Then, then, ye ocean warriors!
To the fame of your name, When the storm has ceased to blow; When the fiery fight is heard no more And the storm has ceased to blow.
OK, DUNGEON-GHYLL FORCE.1
The valley rings with mirth and joy ;
Among the hills the echoes play
A never, never ending song,
To welcome in the May.
The magpie chatters with delight;
The mountain raven's youngling brood
Have left the mother and the nest,
And they go rambling east and west
In search of their own food;
Or through the glittering vapour dart
In very wantonness of heart."
Beneath a rock, upon the grass,
Two boys are sitting in the sun;
Boys that have had no work to do,
Or work that now is done.
On pipes of sycamore they play
The fragments of a Christmas Hymn;
Or with that plant which in our dale
We call Stag-horn, or Fox's tail,
Their rusty hats they trim;
And thus, as happy as the day,
Those shepherds wear the time away.
Along the river's stony marge
The sand-lark chants a joyous song;
The thrush is busy in the wood,
And carols loud and strong.
A thousand lambs are on the rocks,
and, for the most part, a steep narrow valley, with a stream running
through it. Force is the word universally employed in
1 Ghyll, in the dialect of Cumberland and Westmorland is a short,
All newly born! both earth and sky
Keep jubilee; and more than all,
Those boys with their green coronal
They never hear the cry,
That plaintive cry! which up the hill
Comes from the depth of Dungeon-Ghyll.
Said Walter leaping from the ground,
Down to the stump of yon old yew
We'll for our whistles run a race.”
Away the shepherds flew.
they ran and when they came Right opposite to Dungeon-Ghyll, Seeing that he should lose the prize, "Stop!" to his comrade Walter cries He stopp'd with no good will:
Said Walter, then, "Your task is here,
Twill baffle you
dare, where I shall cross
Come on, and in my footsteps tread!
The other took him at his word,
And followed as he led.
It was a spot which you may see
If ever you to Langdale go;
Into a chasm a mighty block
Hath fallen, and made a bridge of rock.
The gulph is deep below;
And in a basin black and small
Receives a lofty waterfall.
With staff in hand across the cleft
The challenger pursued his march;
And now, all and feet, hath gain'd
The middle of the arch,
When list! he hears a piteous
Again! - his heart within him dies -
His pulse is stopp'd, his breath is lost,
He totters, pallid ghost,
And, looking down, espies
A lamb, that in the pool is pent
Within that black and frightful rent.
The lamb had slipp'd into the stream,
And safe without a bruise or wound
The cataract had borne him down
Into the gulf profound.
His dam had seen him when he fell,
She saw him down the torrent borne;
And, while with all a mother's love
She from the lofty rocks above
Sent forth a cry forlorn,
The lamb, still swimming round and round,
Made answer to that plaintive sound.
When he had learnt what thing it was
That sent this rueful cry, I ween
The boy recover'd heart, and told
The sight which he had seen.
Both gladly now deferr'd their task;
Nor was there wanting other aid -
A poet, one who loves the brooks
Far better than the sage's books,
By chance had thither stray'd;
And there the helpless lamb he found
By those huge rocks encompass'd round.
He drew it gently from the pool,
And brought it forth into the light;
The shepherds met him with his charge,
An unexpected sight!
Into their arms the lamb they took,
Said they,
"He's neither maim'd nor scarr'd."
Then up the steep ascent they hied,
And placed him at his mother's side;
And gently did the bard
Those idle shepherd-boys
And bade them better mind their trade.
THE HUNTING OF CHEVY CHASE.
God prosper long our noble king,
Our lives and safeties all!
A woful hunting once there did
In Chevy Chase befall:
To drive the deer with hound and horn
Earl Percy took his way;
The child may rue that is unborn
The hunting of that day.
The stout Earl of Northumberland
God did make,
in the Scottish woods
Three summer days to take;
The chiefest harts in Chevy Chase and bear
These tidings to Earl Douglas came
In Scotland, where he lay;
Who sent Earl Percy present word
He would prevent his sport.
The English earl, not fearing this,
Did to the woods resort,
With fifteen hundred bowmen bold;
All chosen men of might,
Who knew full well, in time of need, To aim their shafts aright.
yhounds swiftly ran,
To chase the fallow deer:
On Monday they began to hunt,
When daylight did appear;
|