The deer across their greensward bound
Through shade and sunny gleam;

And the swan glides by them with the sound
Of some rejoicing stream.

The merry homes of England!
Around their hearths, by night,

What gladsome looks of household love
Meet in the ruddy light!

There woman's voice flows forth in song,
Or childish tale is told;
Or lips move tunefully along
Some glorious page of old.

The cottage homes of England!

By thousands on her plains,

They are smiling o'er the silvery brooks
And round the hamlet fanes.1
Through glowing orchards forth they peep
Each from its nook of leaves;
And fearless there the lowly sleep,
As the bird beneath the eaves.

The free, fair homes of England!
Long, long, in hut and hall,
May hearts of native proof be reared,2
To guard each hallowed wall!

And green for ever be the groves,
And bright the flowery sod,

Where first the child's glad spirit loves
Its country and its God!

1 Hamlet fanes, the spires of the village churches.
2 Hearts of native proof, men of courage.

SOMEBODY'S DARLING. (MRS. LACOSTE.)

NTO a ward of the whitewashed walls,
Where the dead and the dying lay-
Wounded by bayonets, shells, and balls-
Somebody's darling was borne one day.
Somebody's darling! So young and so brave,
Wearing still on his pale, sweet face,
Soon to be hid by the dust of the grave,
The lingering light of his boyhood's grace.

Matted and damp are the curls of gold
Kissing the snow of that fair young brow;
Pale are the lips of delicate mould-
Somebody's darling is dying now.

Back from the beautiful, blue-veined face
Brush every wandering silken thread;

B

Cross his hands as a sign of grace-
Somebody's darling is still and dead.

Kiss him once for somebody's sake,
Murmur a prayer soft and low,
One bright curl from the cluster take—
They were somebody's pride, you know.
Somebody's hand hath rested there:

Was it a mother's, soft and white?
And have the lips of a sister fair

Been baptised in those waves of light?

God knows best. He was somebody's love;
Somebody's heart enshrined him there;
Somebody wafted his name above,

Night and morn, on the wings of prayer.
Somebody wept when he marched away,
Looking so handsome, brave, and grand ;
Somebody's kiss on his forehead lay;
Somebody clung to his parting hand.

Somebody's watching and waiting for him,
Yearning to hold him again to her heart;
There he lies-with the blue eyes dim,
And smiling, childlike, lips apart.
Tenderly bury the fair young head,

Pausing to drop on his grave a tear;
Carve on the wooden slab at his head-

'Somebody's darling lies buried here!'

The above beautiful poem was written by an American lady during the terrible civil war which raged in the United States of America from 1861 till 1865.

THE BATTLE OF THE BALTIC. (CAMPBELL.)

In 1801 the English fleet, under the command of Sir Hyde Parker and Admiral Nelson, was sent to the Baltic to oppose the Northern Powers then leagued against Britain. These commanders encountered the Danish fleet under the batteries of Copenhagen, and a desperate battle at once ensued, in which seventeen ships of the Danes were either captured or sunk.

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,

1 The Crown Prince, who afterwards became Frederick VI., King

of Denmark.

Like leviathans afloat,1

Lay their bulwarks on the brine;
While the sign of battle flew
On the lofty British line:

It was ten of April morn by the chime;
As they drifted on their path,

There was silence deep as death h;

And the boldest held his breath
For a time.

But the might of England flushed
To anticipate the scene;

And her van the fleeter rushed

O'er the deadly space between.

'Hearts of oak!' our captains cried, when each gun From its adamantine lips 2

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 feebler cheer the Dane
To our cheering sent us back :-
Then ceased-and all is wail,
As they strike the shatter'd sail,
Or, in conflagration pale,
Light the gloom.-

Out spoke the victor then,

As he hail'd them o'er the wave:

1 Leviathans, huge sea-monsters.

2 Adamantine lips, iron mouths, hard as a diamond.