But still as wilder blew the wind, ‘O haste thee, haste!' the lady cries, Though tempests round us gather; 'I'll meet the raging of the skies, 6 .' But not an angry father!' The boat has left a stormy land, When, O! too strong for human hand And still they row'd amidst the roar Of waters fast prevailing : Lord Ullin reach'd that fatal shore,— His wrath was changed to wailing. For, sore dismay'd, through storm aud shade His child he did discover : One lovely hand she stretch'd for aid, And one was round her lover. 'Come back! come back!' he cried in grief 5 Across this stormy water: And I'll forgive your Highland chief : : 'My daughter!-O my daughter!' 'Twas vain the loud waves lash'd the shore, Return or aid preventing : The waters wild went o'er his child, And he was left lamenting. T. Campbell THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold, And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen; Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown. For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd; And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still. And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride: And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider, distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. 2 cohorts, regiments 3 sheen, shining 11 wax'd, grew 16 surf, waves 13 steed, warhorse And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal, And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord! Lord Byron * 47 * THE SPANISH 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; 21 Ashur, Assyria I list, desire 7 isle, Alderney 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 unbonnet'd 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 stalk'd he when he turn'd 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 turn'd to bay, And crush'd and torn beneath his claws the princely hunters lay. Ho! strike the flag-staff deep, Sir Knight; ho! scatter flowers, fair maids : Ho! gunners, fire a loud salute: ho! gallants, draw your blades; 14 post. messenger 17 yeomen, stout followers 16 halberdiers, guards with axes Grace, Queen Elizabeth 22 lilies, old arms of France 28 salute, volley: blades, swords 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 unfurl'd that banner's massive fold, The parting gleam of sunshine kiss'd 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 Saint 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 pour'd 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 all night rang out from Bristol town, And ere the day three hundred horse had met on Clifton down; 30 Semper Eadem, 'always the same': banner, flag 32 scroll, flag |