While they drink out of skulls newly torn from the grave, Dancing round them pale spectres are seen : Their liquor is blood, and this horrible stave They howl:"To the health of Alonzo the Brave, And his consort, the False Imogine!" M. G. LEWIS (The Monk). Lord Ullin's Daughter A CHIEFTAIN, to the Highlands bound, "Now who be ye would cross Lochgyle, "O, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle, And this Lord Ullin's daughter. "And fast before her father's men "His horsemen hard behind us ride; When they have slain her lover? Out spoke the hardy Highland wight, "I'll go, my chief—I'm ready :— It is not for your silver bright; But for your winsome lady : "And by my word! the bonny bird In danger shall not tarry; So though the waves are raging white, I'll row you o'er the ferry.” By this the storm grew loud apace, The water-wraith was shrieking; And in the scowl of Heaven each face Grew dark as they were speaking. But still as wilder blew the wind, Their trampling sounded nearer.— "O haste thee, haste!" the lady cries, "Though tempests round us gather; I'll meet the raging of the skies, The boat has left a stormy land, A stormy sea before her, When, oh! too strong for human hand, The tempest gather'd o'er her. 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 and 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, "Across this stormy water; And I'll forgive your Highland chief, My daughter! Oh 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 Battle of the Baltic 1809. I. OF Nelson and the North, 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 Led them on.— Like leviathans afloat, II. Lay their bulwarks on the brine, It was ten of April morn by the chime : There was silence deep as death; And the boldest held his breath III But the might of England flush'd To anticipate the scene; 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. IV. 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: As they strike the shatter'd sail, Light the gloom.— V. Out spoke the victor then, To our King."— VI. Then Denmark bless'd our chief, : |