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And when Lord Marmion reached his band,
He halts, and turns with clenchèd hand,
And shout of loud defiance pours,
And shook his gauntlet at the towers.

- SIR WALTER SCOTT. Marmion.”

From "

THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM

It was a summer evening,

Old Kaspar's work was done,
And he, before his cottage door,

Was sitting in the sun;
And by him sported on the green,
His little grandchild Wilhelmine.
She saw her brother Peterkin

Roll something large and round,
Which he beside the rivulet,

In playing there, had found;
He came to ask what he had found,
That was so large, and smooth, and round.

Old Kaspar took it from the boy,

Who stood expectant by ;
And then the old man shook his head,

And, with a natural sigh,
“ 'Tis some poor fellow's skull,” said he,
“ Who fell in the great victory.

“I find them in the garden,

For there's many hereabout;
And often when I go to plow,
The plowshare turns them out;
thousand men,'

men,” said he, “ Were slain in that great victory.”

For many

“ Now tell us what 'twas all about,

Young Peterkin he cries; While little Wilhelmine looks up

With wonder-waiting eyes ; “ Now tell us all about the war, And what they killed each other for.”

“It was the English,” Kaspar cried,

“Who put the French to rout, But what they killed each other for,

I could not well make out; But everybody said,” quoth he, “ That 'twas a famous victory:

My father lived at Blenheim then,

Yon little stream, hard by;
They burnt his dwelling to the ground,

And he was forced to fly;
So, with his wife and child, he fled,
Nor had he where to rest his head.

“ With fire and sword, the country round

Was wasted, far and wide ;
And many a nursing mother then,

And new-born baby, died;
But things like that, you know, must be
At every famous victory.

“ They say it was a shocking sight

After the field was won :
For many thousand bodies here

Lay rotting in the sun :
But things like that, you know, must be
After a famous victory.

“ Great praise the Duke of Marlboro' won,

And our young prince, Eugene.” “Why, 'twas a very wicked thing!

Said little Wilhelmine. “Nay, nay, my little girl !” quoth he, “ It was a famous victory.

“And everybody praised the Duke

Who this great fight did win.” “But what good came of it at last ?”

Quoth little Peterkin. “Why, that I cannot tell,” said he, “But 'twas a glorious victory.

- ROBERT SOUTHEY. BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE

Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,

As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot

O'er the grave where our hero we buried.

We buried him darkly, at dead of night,

The sods with our bayonets turning,
By the struggling moonbeam's misty light,

And the lantern dimly burning.

No useless coffin inclosed his breast,

Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; But he lay, like a warrior taking his rest,

With his martial cloak around him.

Few and short were the prayers we said,

And we spoke not a word of sorrow; But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead,

And we bitterly thought of the morrow.

We thought as we hollowed his narrow bed,

And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his

head,

And we far away on the billow !

Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,

And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ;
But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on,

In the grave where a Briton has laid him !
But half of our heavy task was done

When the clock tolled the hour for retiring,
And we heard the distant and random gun

That the foe was sullenly firing.

Slowly and sadly we laid him down,

From the field of his fame fresh and gory!
We carved not a line, we raised not a stone,
But we left him alone in his glory.

CHARLES WOLFE.

AMONG THE ICEBERGS

The moon rose full and clear upon a sea of mystery. The sun had set behind a black line on our port quarter as we were headed northeast for the passage of Davis Strait to the coast of Greenland. For a moment there was a flush upon the sea, forming a radiance about the icebergs, then across the dark water fell a glittering path of silver, and everywhere were vast, ghostly figures unmoving in the moonlight. The ice was thickening about us. Ahead and upon our starboard quarter it stood in mass, in

VIII. – 13

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