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So coldly sweet, so deadly fair,
A gilded halo hovering round decay,
Spark of that flame-perchance of heavenly birthWhich gleams-but warms no more its cherished earth!
51. THE TURKISH LADY.
'Twas the hour when rites unholy
Called each Paynim voice to prayer,
Left to dews the freshened air.
Then 'twas from an Emir's palace
Saw and loved an English knight.
"Foes have dragged thee here to dwell,
"When the crescent shone afar,
"O'er the purple tide of war-
"Lady, I was captive made;
Say, fair princess! would it grieve thee
Rose the midnight star to view,
Her sails are draggled in the brine
That gladdened late the skies,
And her pendant that kissed the fair moonshine
Her beauteous sides, whose rainbow hues
And flung a warm and sunny flash
52.-A SHIP SINKING.
O'er wrathful surge, through blackening storm,
'Mid the deep darkness white as snow!
Many ports will exult at the gleam of her mast!
-Hush! hush! thou vain dreamer! this hour is her last.
Five hundred souls in one instant of dread
Are hurried o'er the deck;
And fast the miserable ship
Becomes a lifeless wreck.
Her keel hath struck on a hidden rock,
Her planks are torn asunder,
And down come her masts with a reeling shock,
And a hideous crash like thunder.
Oh! many a dream was in the ship
An hour before her death;
And sights of home with sighs disturbed
-He wakes at the vessel's sudden roll,
While a low and melancholy moan
53.-BATTLE OF THE BALTIC.
Or Nelson and the North
Sing the glorious day's renown,
All the might of Denmark's crown,
By each gun the lighted brand
In a bold determined hand,
Like leviathans afloat,
Lay their bulwarks on the brine;
It was ten of April morn by the chime:
But the might of England flushed
And her van the fleeter rushed
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
Again! again! again!
And the havoc did not slack,
Till a feeble cheer the Dane
To our cheering sent us back ;
Their shots along the deep slowly boom :-
As they strike the shattered sail;
Out spoke the victor then,
Then Denmark blest our chief,
As Death withdrew his shades from the day.
While the sun looked smiling bright
O'er a wide and woful sight,
Where the fires of funeral light
Now joy, Old England, raise!
Brave hearts! to Britain's pride
On the deck of fame that died,
With the gallant good Riou:
Soft sigh the winds of heaven o'er their grave!
While the billow mournful rolls,
54. THE FATE OF MACGREGOR.
"MACGREGOR, Macgregor, remember our foemen ; "The moon rises broad from the brow of Ben-Lomond ; "The clans are impatient and chide thy delay; "Arise! let us bound to Glen-Lyon away."
Stern scowled the Macgregor, then silent and sullen, He turned his red eye to the braes of Strathfillan ;
Go, Malcolm, to sleep, let the clans be dismissed; "The Campbells this night for Macgregor must rest."
Macgregor, Macgregor, our scouts have been flying, "Three days, round the hills of M'Nab and Glen-Lyon ; "Of riding and running such tidings they bear, "We must meet them at home, else they'll quickly be here.”
"The Campbell may come, as his promises bind him, “And haughty M'Nab, with his giants behind him ; “This night I am bound to relinquish the fray, "And do what it freezes my vitals to say.
Forgive me, dear brother, this horror of mind; "Thou knowest in the strife I was never behind, "Nor ever receded a foot from the van, "Or blenched at the ire or the prowess of man.