F 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

"Hearts of oak!" our captain 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;

But that thou hast which with thy crust
And water may despise the lust
Of both a noble mind.

With this, and passions under ban,

True faith and holy trust in God,

Thou art the peer of any man.
Look up, then, that thy little span
Of life may be well trod.

W

WILLIAM D. GALLAGHER.

A SUNNY NOON.

HO has not dreamed a world of bliss.
On a bright sunny noon like this,
Couched by his native brook's green maze
With comrade of his boyish days,
While all around them seemed to be
Just as in joyous infancy?

Who has not loved at such an hour
Upon that heath, in birchen bower,
Lulled in the poet's dreamy mood,
Its wild and sunny solitude,
While o'er the waste of purple ling
You marked a sultry glimmering?
Silence herself there seems to sleep,
Wrapped in a slumber long and deep,
Where slowly stray those lonely sheep
Through the tall foxglove's crimson bloom
And gleaming of the scattered broom.
Love you not then to list and hear
The crackling of the gorse-flowers near,
Pouring an orange-scented tide
Of fragrance o'er the desert wide,
To hear the buzzard whimpering shrill
Hovering above you high and still,
The twittering of the bird that dwells.
Amongst the heath's delicious bells,

! While round your bed, o'er fern and blade,
Insects in green and gold arrayed-
The sun's gay tribes-have lightly strayed,
And sweeter sound their humming wings
Than the proud minstrel's echoing strings?

'TIS

BEAUTY.

WILLIAM HOWITT.

IS much immortal beauty to admire, But more immortal beauty to withstand:

The perfect soul can overcome desire

If beauty with divine delight be scanned. For what is beauty but the blooming child

Of fair Olympus, that in night must end, And be for ever from that bliss exiled.

If admiration stand too much its friend? The wind may be enamored of a flower, The ocean of the green and laughing shore,

The silver lightning of a lofty tower,

But must not with too near a love adore, Or flower and margin and cloud-capped

tower

Love and delight shall with delight devour.

LORD EDWARd Thurlow.

TWO PICTURES.

AN old farmhouse with meadows wide,

And sweet with clover on each side;
A bright-eyed boy who looks from out
The door with woodbine wreathed about,
And wishes his one thought all day:
"Oh, if I could but fly away

From this dull spot, the world to see,
How happy, happy, happy,
How happy I should be!"

contending,

Four brothers enriched with their blood

the bleak field,

For the rights of a monarch their country defending

Till death their attachment to royalty sealed.

Shades of heroes, farewell; your descendant, departing

From the seat of his ancestors, bids you

adieu :

Abroad or at home, your remembrance imparting

New courage, he'll think upon glory and

you.

Though a tear dim his eye at this sad separation,

'Tis nature, not fear, that excites his regret;