THOMAS HOOD. 1798-1845

FROM "THE HAUNTED HOUSE"

The wren had built within the porch, she found
Its quiet loneliness so sure and thorough;
And on the lawn,-within its turfy mound,
The rabbit made his burrow.

The rabbit wild and grey, that flitted through

The shrubby clumps, and frisk'd, and sat, and vanished, But leisurely and bold, as if he knew

His enemy was banished.

The wary crow,-the pheasant from the woods,-
Lulled by the still and everlasting sameness,
Close to the mansion, like domestic broods,
Fed with a "shocking tameness."

The coot was swimming in the reedy pond,
Beside the water-hen, so soon affrighted;
And in the weedy moat the heron, fond
Of solitude, alighted.

The moping heron, motionless and stiff,
That on a stone, as silently, as stilly,
Stood an apparent sentinel, as if
To guard the water-lily.

No sound was heard, except, from far away,
The ringing of the Whitwall's shrilly laughter,

Or now and then, the chatter of the jay,
That Echo murmured after.

THE DEATH BED

We watched her breathing through the night, Her breathing soft and low,

As in her breast the wave of life

Kept heaving to and fro.

So silently we seemed to speak,

So slowly moved about,

As we had lent her half our powers
To eke her living out.

Our very hopes belied our fears,
Our fears our hopes belied-
We thought her dying when she slept,
And sleeping when she died.
For when the morn came, dim and sad,
And chill with early showers,

Her quiet eyelids closed-she had
Another morn than ours.

LORD MACAULAY. 1800-1859

THE ARMADA

Attend, all ye who list to hear our noble England's praise; I tell of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in ancient days,

When that great fleet invincible against her bore in vain The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts of Spain.

It was about the lovely close of a warm summer day, There came a gallant merchant-ship full sail to Plymouth Bay;

Her crew hath seen Castile's black fleet beyond Aurigny's isle

At earliest twilight on the waves lie heaving many a mile. At sunrise she escaped their van, by God's especial grace; And the tall Pinta, till the noon, had held her close in chase.

Forthwith a guard at every gun was placed along the wall;

The beacon blazed upon the roof of Edgecumbe's lofty hall;

Many a light fishing-bark put out to pry along the coast, And with loose rein and bloody spur rode inland many

a post.

With his white hair unbonneted, the stout old sheriff comes;

Behind him march the halberdiers; before him sound the drums;

His yeomen round the market-cross make clear an ample

space;

For there behoves him to set up the standard of Her

Grace.

And haughtily the trumpets peal, and gaily dance the

bells,

As slow upon the labouring wind the royal blazon swells. Look how the Lion of the sea lifts up his ancient crown, And underneath his deadly paw treads the gay lilies down. So stalked he when he turned to flight, on that famed Picard field,

Bohemia's plume, and Genoa's bow, and Cæsar's eagle shield:

So glared he when at Agincourt in wrath he turned to

bay,

And crushed and torn beneath his claws the princely hunters lay.

Ho! strike the flagstaff deep, Sir Knight: ho! scatter flowers, fair maids:

Ho! gunners, fire a loud salute: ho! gallants, draw your blades:

Thou sun, shine on her joyously; ye breezes, waft her wide:

Our glorious "Semper eadem," the banner of our pride.

The freshening breeze of eve unfurled that banner's massy fold,

The parting gleam of sunshine kissed that haughty scroll of gold;

Night sank upon the dusky beach, and on the purple sea, Such night in England ne'er had been, nor e'er again

shall be.

From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, from Lynn to Milford Bay,

That time of slumber was as bright and busy as the day; For swift to east and swift to west the ghastly war-flame

spread,

High on St. Michael's Mount it shone: it shone on Beachy Head.

Far on the deep the Spaniard saw, along each Southern shire,

Cape beyond cape, in endless range, those twinkling points of fire.

The fisher left his skiff to rock on 'Tamar's glittering

waves:

The rugged miners poured to war from Mendip's sunless caves :

O'er Longleat's towers, o'er Cranbourne's oaks, the fiery herald flew ;

He roused the shepherds of Stonehenge, the rangers of Beaulieu.

Right sharp and quick the bells rang out all night from Bristol town,

And ere the day three hundred horse had met on Clifton

down ;

The sentinel on Whitehall gate looked forth into the

night,

And saw o'erhanging Richmond Hill the streak of bloodred light;

Then bugle's note and cannon's roar the death-like silence broke,

And with one start, and with one cry, the royal city woke. At once on all her stately gates arose the answering

fires ;

At once the wild alarum clashed from all her reeling

spires;

From all the batteries of the Tower pealed loud the voice of fear;

And all the thousand masts of Thames sent back a louder

cheer;

And from the farthest wards was heard the rush of

hurrying feet,

And the broad streams of pikes and flags rushed down each roaring street;