In vain they hid their heads in walls; we rush'd on stout Thouar,- We burst its gates; then, like the wind, we rush'd on Fontenaye- We charged them with our naked breasts, and took them with a cheer. We'll hunt the robbers through the land, from Seine to sparkling Rhone. Now, "Here's a health to all we love. Our King shall have his own.” Memoirs of a Statesman. ON THE DOWNFALL OF POLAND. Oh! sacred Truth, thy triumph ceased awhile, Warsaw's last champion from her height survey'd "Oh! Heav'n," he cried,-"my bleeding country save! Yet, though destruction sweep those lovely plains, He said, and on the rampart-heights array'd In vain, alas! in vain, ye gallant few! From rank to rank your volley'd thunder flew :- Dropp'd from her nerveless grasp the shatter'd spear, The sun went down, nor ceased the carnage there; Departed spirits of the mighty dead! The patriot TELL-the BRUCE of BANNOCKBUrn. CAMPBELL. CASABIANCA.t The boy stood on the burning deck, A creature of heroic blood, A proud though childlike form! The flames roll'd on-he would not go That father, faint in death below, His voice no longer heard. * In 1794. At the battle of the Nile, 1798, the French admiral, in the L'Orient, ordered his son Casabianca (a lad about 13 years of age) not to quit his post until he told him. In the course of the action, the admiral was killed, the ship caught fire, and was blown up. The boy, unconscious that his father was dead, remained at his post, and permitted himself to be launched into eternity, rather than disobey his father's orders. He call'd aloud:-"Say, father! say He knew not that the chieftain lay "Speak, father!" once again he cried, And" but the booming shots replied, And look'd from that lone post of death In still yet brave despair! And shouted but once more aloud, My father, must I stay?" While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, The wreathing fires made way; They wrapt the ship in splendour wild, They caught the flag on high And streamed above the gallant child, Then came a burst of thunder sound- With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, But the noblest thing which perished there Was that young faithful heart!-HEMANS. THE BATTLE OF THE BALTIC.* Of 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 In a bold determined hand, And the prince of all the land Like leviathans afloat, Lay their bulwarks on the brine; * Gained 1801. It was ten of April morn by the chime; But the might of England flush'd And her van the fleeter rush'd 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 Of the sun! 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; Then ceased-and all is wail, As they strike the shatter'd sail; Out spoke the victor then, As he hail'd them o'er the wave, Then Denmark bless'd our chief, From her people wildly rose, As death withdrew his shades from the day: While the sun look'd smiling bright O'er a wide and woeful sight, Where the fires of funeral light Died away! Now joy, old England raise ! For the tidings of thy might, By the festal cities blaze, While the wine-cup shines in light And yet, amidst that joy and uproar, By thy wild and stormy steep, Brave hearts! to Britain's pride Soft sigh the winds of heaven o'er their grave! And the mermaid's song condoles, Of the brave! CAMPBELL. 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 |