And saw o'erhanging Richmond Hill the streak of blood-red 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 dashed down each roaring street; And broader still became the blaze, and louder still the din, As fast from every village round the horse came spurring in: And eastward straight, from wild Blackheath, the warlike errand went, And roused in many an ancient hall the gallant squires of Kent. Southward from Surrey's pleasant hills flew those bright couriers forth; High on bleak Hampstead's swarthy moor they started for the north; And on, and on, without a pause, untired they bounded still: All night from tower to tower they sprang; they sprang from hill to hill: Till the proud Peak unfurled the flag o'er Darwin's rocky dales, Till like volcanoes flared to heaven the stormy hills of Wales, Till twelve fair counties saw the blaze on Malvern's lovely height, Till streamed in crimson on the wind the Wrekin's crest of light, Till broad and fierce the star came forth on Ely's stately fane, And tower and hamlet rose in arms o'er all the boundless plain; Till Belvoir's lordly terraces the sign to Lincoln sent, And Lincoln sped the message on o'er the wild vale of Trent ; Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burned on Gaunt's embattled pile, And the red glare of Skiddaw roused the burghers of Carlisle. A CANADIAN BOAT SONG.-Moore. FAINTLY as tolls the evening chime, Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time. Why should we yet our sail unfurl? Utawas tide! this trembling moon C RING OUT THE OLD, RING IN THE NEW.-Tennyson. RING out wild bells to the wild sky, Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring out the grief that saps the mind, Ring out a slowly dying cause, And ancient forms of party strife; Ring out the want, the care, the sin, Ring out false pride in place and blood, Ring out old shapes of foul disease; Ring in the valiant man and free, EDWIN AND ANGELINA.—Goldsmith. "TURN gentle hermit of the dale, To where yon taper cheers the vale, "For here forlorn and lost I tread, "Forbear, my son," the hermit cries, "To tempt the dangerous gloom; For yonder faithless phantom flies To lure thee to thy doom. "Here, to the houseless child of want, And, though my portion is but scant, "Then turn to-night, and freely share My rushy couch, and frugal fare, "No flocks that range the valley free, Taught by that Power that pities me, "But from the mountain's grassy side, A guiltless feast I bring; A scrip, with herbs and fruits supplied, "Then, Pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego; Soft, as the dew from heaven descends, Far in a wilderness obscure, A refuge to the neighbouring poor, No stores beneath its humble thatch And now, when busy crowds retire, And spread his vegetable store, Around, in sympathetic mirth, |