OSSIAN'S ADDRESS TO THE SUN.

O thou that rollest above, / round as the shield of my faithers ! | Whence are thy beams, O sun', | thy everlasting light? Thou comest forth in thy awful beauty;| the stars hide themselves in the sky';| the moon, cold, and palei, | sinks in the western wave. But thou thyself movest alone : who can be a companion of thy course, ? |

The oaks of the mountainsa fall. ; the mountains themselves', decay with years'; the ocean shrinks, and grows again;| the moon herself, b is lost in heavin;| but thou art for ever the same, rejoicing in the brightness of thy course.

i When the world is dark with tempests!, / 2 when thunder rolls, and lightning flies', | 3 thou lookest in thy beauty from the clouds', and laugh'est at the storm.] 2 But, to Ossian, thou lookest in vain,; | for he beholds thy beamse no more, whether thy yellow hairs | flow on the eastern clouds', | or thou tremblest at the gates of the west

But thou art perhaps like me'- | for a seaison : thy years will have an ends. | Thou shalt sleep in the cloudsı, careless of the voice of the morning. / 4 Exult', then, O sun', in the strength of thy youth !| 1Age, is dark, and unlove.ly : 1 2 it is like the glimmering light of the moon, | when it shines through broken clouds'; and the mist is on the hills, | the blast of the north is on the plain, | the traveller shrinks in the midst of his jour ney. I

TELL'S ADDRESS TO HIS NATIVE MOUNTAINS.

(JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES.) Ye crags, and peaks, I'm with you once again;' | I hold to you the hands you first beheld', 1

a Moun'tỉnz. b Moon herself, not moo'-ner-self. He, beholds thy beams; not He'be holds thy beams. d Ossian was blind. Crags and peaks ; not cragz'n peaks, nor crags Ann Peaks. Agen'.

To show they still area free. ' Methinks Ib hear
A spirit in your echoes, an'swer me, |
2 And bid your tenant welcome to his home,
Again ! | O sa cred forms, | how proud, you lookd ! |
How high you lift your heads into the sky'!|
How huge, you are !| how mighity, I and how free, !|
Ye are the things that tow'r— that shine, whose smile
Makes glad — whose frown is ter rible - whose forms
Robed, or un robed, do all the impress wear |
Of awe divine. Ye guards of liberty,
I'm with you once again!C- "I call to you
With all my voice' | I hold my hands to you
To show they still are free— | I rush to you
As though I could embrace you !

BATTLE OF HOHENLINDEN.

(THOMAS CAMPBELL.)

On Linden,& when the sun was low., 1
All bloddless lay the untrodd’n snow, I
And dark as win'ter, was the flow' |

Of Iserh rolling rapidly. |
But Lindeng saw another sight,
When the drum beat at dead of night, I
Commanding fires of death, to light |

The darkness of her scenery. I
By torch, and trumpet fast array'd,
Each horsemani drew his batıtle blade ; |
And furious every charger neigh'd', !

To join the dreadful revelry.

e

a Still; are ; not stillar. b Methinks, I; not me-think'si. cAgen. d Proud, you look ; not prow'jew-look. e Huge, you are ; not hew'jew-are. f Embrace you ; not embra'shew. & Lin'den; not Lindun. h Essůr. i Hồrs'mån; not hosmun.

ز

Then shook the hills with thunder riv'n;/
Then rush'd the steed to batıtle driv'n;/
And louder than the bolts of heav'n, I

Far flash'd the red artillerya. /
And redder yet' those fires shall glowil
On Linden'sb hills of blood-stain'd snow";/
And darker yet, shall be the flowil

Of Iser rolling rapidly.
'Tis morn,- | but scarce yon level sun |
Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun,
Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun'|

Shout in their sulph’rous canopy. |
The combat deepi'ns— On', ye brave, I
Who rush to glory, or the grave !|

Wave, Munich,d | all thy banners, wave'!|

And charge with all thy chivalryo !
mp Few, few shall part where many meet: ! |
The snow shall be their windiing-sheet,
And every turf beneath their feet, I

Shall be,, a soldier's sep, ulchre. I

CHILDE HAROLD'S ADDRESS TO THE OCEAN.

(LORD BYRON.)
O that the desert were my dwell'ing-place,
With one fair spirit for my minister,
That I might all forget the human race',
And, hating no one, love but only her!
Ye elements ! | in whose ennobling stir
I feel myself exalted— can ye not
Accordi me such a being? | Do I err|

In deeming such inhabit mainy a spot? |
Though with them to converse, I can rarely be our lot. I

E'sůr.

d Mü'nik.

a Artillår-ré. b Lin'den; not Lindun. e Shiv'al-re. Bè-nėra'.

F

There is a pleasures in the pathless woods,
There is a rap'ture on the lonely shore, I
There is society, where none intrudes/
By the deep sea, and music in its roar. I
I love not man the less, | but nature more, |
From these, our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, | or have been before, I
To mingle with the u'niverse, I and feel |
What I can ne'er expressi, 1 yet cannot all conceal. I

Roll on), a | thou deep, and dark-blue ocean- - roll. ! |
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vainı; /
Man marks the earth' with ruin- | his control |
Stops with the shore;- upon the watery plain |
The wrecks are all thy' deed, nor doth remain |
A shadow of man's ravage, | save his own,
When, for a moment, | like a drop of rain,

He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknell’d',| uncoffin'd, and unknown.

His steps are not upon thy paths',- | thy fields |
Are not a spoil for him, I thou dostb arise, |
And shake him from' thee; the vile strength he wields/
For earth's destruction, thou dost all despise,
Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies', |
And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray, |
And howling to his gods, | 2 where haply lies

His petty hope, | in some near port, or bay,
Then dashest him againd to earth':- there let him lay |

The armaments which thunderstrike the walls
Of rock-built cit'ies, bidding nations quake,
And monarchs tremble in their capitals, ||
The oak leviathans whose huge ribs make

a Roll on'; not roll-on'.

b Důst.

c Port, or bay ; not Porter Bay. Agen'. • Mỏn'nårks; not mon'nucks.

d

Their clay-creator the vain title take
Of lord of thee', / and arbiter of warı; /
These are thy toys, | and, as the snowy flake', |

They melt into thy yesta of waves', / which mar, |
Alike, the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.

Thy shores are empires, | chang’d in all save thees- |
Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they, il
Thy waters wasted them while they were free',|
And many a tyrant since ;| their shores obey
The stranger, slave', or savage ; | their decay |
Has dri'd up realms to desierts :- not so thou', |
Unchangeable, I save to thy wild waves' play,

Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow-
Such as creation's dawn' beheld, thou rollest now, I

Thou glorious mir'ror, | 1where the Almighty's form
Glasses itself in tem pests ; | 2in all' time,
Calm, or convuls'd. — in breeze', or gale', or storm,
Icing the pole', / or in the torrid clime,
Dark-heaving, I bound less, end'less, and sublime,-
The image of etērınity— | Ithe throne
Of the Invisible; 2 e'en from out thy slime

The monsters of the deep are made, ; | each zone | Obeysi thee; thou goest forth, drēad", fāth'omless, alone.

s® And I have lov'd' thee, oʻcean ! | and my joy |
Of youthful sports, was on thy breast to be
Borne, like thy bubbles, on ward: from a boy
I wanton'd with thy breakers : | they to me,
Were a delight'; and, if the fresh'ning sea
Made them a terror- | 'twas a plea sing fear,
For I was as it were a child' of thee, |
And trusted to thy billows, far, and near, |
And laid

my

hand upon thy mane - | as I do here. I

Traf-fall-går.