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He call'd aloud :-“Say, father! say
If yet my task is done?"
Unconscious of his son.
“If I may yet be gone!
And fast the flames rolled on.
And in his waving hair,
In still yet brave despair
“My father, must I stay?”
The wreathing fires made way;
They caught the flag on high
Like banners in the sky.
The boy-oh! where was he?
With fragments strewed the sea,
That well had borne their part-
Was that young faithful heart !-HEMANS.
THE BATTLE OF THE BALTIC. *
Of Nelson and the North
* Gained 1801.
It was ten of April morn by the chime;
But the might of England flush'd
Again ! again ! again!
Out spoke the victor then,
Then Denmark bless'd our chief,
Now joy, old England raise !
And yet, amidst that joy and uproar,
Brave hearts ! to Britain's pride
THE DEATH OF NELSON.
“ He fell with his face upon the
deck. Hardy turned round as some men were raising him. They have done for me at last, Hardy,' said he. Soon after he had been carried to the cock-pit, his wound was discovered to be mortal; he felt this himself, and insisted that the surgeon should leave him, to attend those whom he might yet save. He was in great pain, and intensely anxious to know how the battle went. Will no one bring Hardy to me?' he asked : 'he must be killed ! he is surely dead !" At length Hardy came, and the two friends shook hands in silence. After a pause, the dying man faintly uttered, 'Well, Hardy, how goes the
day?" "Very well; ten ships have already struck. Finding that all was well, and that no British ship had yielded, he turned to speak of himself—' I am a dead man, Hardy! I am going fast. "It will soon be all over with me!' Hardy hoped that there was yet a chance of recovery. 'O no! it is impossible. I feel something rising in my breast that tells me so.' Captain Hardy, having been again on deck, returned at the end of an hour, to his dying friend. He could not tell, in the confusion, the exact number of allies that had surrendered; but there were at least fifteen; for the other ships had followed their admiral's into action, breaking the enemy's line and engaging closely to leeward, in the same gallant style as the Victory and Sovereign. Nelson answered, that is well, but I bargained for twenty. And his wish was prophetic; he had not miscalculated the superiority of his followers; twenty actually surrendered. Having ordered the fleet to anchor, he again spoke of himself. “Don't throw me overboard. Kiss me, Hardy! Hardy knelt down, and obeyed in silence Now I am satisfied; I thank God I have done my duty.' Hardy kissed him again, received his blessing, and then took leave of him for ever."
“The most triumphant death is that of the martyr; the most awful, that of the martyred patriot; the most splendid, that of the hero in the hour of victory; and if the chariot and the horses of fire had been vouchsafed for Nelson's translation, he could scarcely have departed in a brighter blaze of glory. He has left us, not indeed his mantle of inspiration, but a name and an example, which are at this hour inspiring thousands of the youth of England: a name which is our pride, and an example which will continue to be our shield and our strength.”-SOUTHEY's Life of Nelson.
Well hast thou done thy duty, gallant son ;
What truer fame can greet a mortal's ear
Thou, to the patriot's soul, art truly dear!
O let us blot thy failings with a tear,
Man without pride, or hate, or fraud, or fear;
Thine was the generous heart, though gentle, brave,
A glorious life, an honourable grave,
TUPPER’s Ballads and Poems. Trafalgar is noted for the complete defeat of the combined French and Spanish fleets, on the 21st October, 1805. This is considered the greatest naval victory which the British have ever gained. In it the gallant Nelson fell, on board the Victory.
THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE. *
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral-note,
As his corse to the rampart we hurried ;
O’er the grave where our hero we buried.
The sods with our bayonets turning;
And the lantern dimly burning.
Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him;
With his martial cloak around him.
And we spoke not a word of sorrow;
And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
* Killed in 1809, while repulsing the French at Corunna.
We thought-as we hollowed his narrow bed,
And smoothed down his lonely pillow-
While we were far on the billow !
Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,
Ando'er his cold ashes upbraid him,
In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
But half of our heavy task was done,
When the clock struck the hour for retiring; And we heard the distant and random gun
That the foe was suddenly firing.
Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
But we left him alone with his glory.-WOLFE.
RETREAT OF THE FRENCH ARMY IN RUSSIA.*
Magnificence of ruin! what has time
The land behind them massacre and flame;
Homeward by hundred thousands, column-deep,
Of drum and horn, and dissonant clash of mail,
* At the close of 1812. In this invasion the French lost nearly 500,000 men-either killed, taken prisoners, or through excessive cold and hard. ships.