I tell thee, Culloden's dread echoes shall ring
With the bloodhounds that bark for thy fugitive king.
Lo! anointed by Heaven with the vials of wrath,
Behold, where he flies on his desolate path!

Now in darkness and billows, he sweeps from my sight:
Rise, rise! ye wild tempests, and cover his flight!
"Tis finished. Their thunders are hushed on the moors;
Culloden is lost, and my country deplores :

But where is the iron-bound prisoner? - where?
For the red eye of battle is shut in despair.

Say, mounts he the occan-wave, banished, forlorn,
Like a limb from his country cast bleeding and torn?
Ah no! for a darker departure is near;

The war-drum is muffled, and black is the bier;
His death-bell is tolling: oh! mercy, dispel

Yon sight, that it freezes my spirit to tell!
Life flutters convulsed in his quivering limbs,
And his blood-streaming nostril in agony swims.
Accursed be the fagots that blaze at his feet,

Where his heart shall be thrown ere it ceases to beat,
With the smoke of its ashes to poison the gale-

LOCHIEL.

Down, soothless insulter! I trust not the tale:

For never shall Albin a destiny meet

So black with dishonor, so foul with retreat.

Though my perishing ranks should be strewed in their

gore,

Like ocean-weeds heaped on the surf-beaten shore,

Lochiel, untainted by flight or by chains,

While the kindling of life in his bosom remains,

Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low,

With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe!
And leaving in battle no blot on his name,

Look proudly to Heaven from the death-bed of fame.

BATTLE OF THE BALTIC.

I.

Or 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,

And the Prince of all the land

Led them on. —

Like leviathans afloat,

II.

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;

And the boldest held his breath,
For a time.

III.

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

From its adamantine lips

Spread a death-shade round the ships,

[gun

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;
Then ceased - and all is wail,

As they strike the shattered sail;

Or, in conflagration pale,

Light the gloom.

V.

Out spoke the victor then,

As he hailed them o'er the wave;
"Ye are brothers! ye are men!
And we conquer but to save :-

So peace instead of death let us bring;
But yield, proud foe, thy fleet,
With the crews, at England's feet,
And make submission meet

To our King."

VI.

Then Denmark blessed our chief,

That he gave her wounds repose;
And the sounds of joy and grief

From her people wildly rose,

As death withdrew his shades from the day, While the sun looked smiling bright

O'er a wide and woful sight,

Where the fires of funeral light

Died away.

VII.

Now joy, Old England, raise!
For the tidings of thy might,
By the festal cities' blaze,

Whilst the wine-cup shines in light;
And yet amidst that joy and uproar,
Let us think of them that sleep,
Full many a fathom deep,

By thy wild and stormy steep,
Elsinore ! -

VIII.

Brave hearts! to Britain's pride
Once so faithful and so true,
On the deck of fame that died,
With the gallant, good Riou: *

Soft sigh the winds of Heaven o'er their grave!
While the billow mournful rolls,

And the mermaid's song condoles,
Singing glory to the souls

Of the brave!

Captain Riou, justly entitled the gallant and the good, by Lord Nel son, when he wrote home his dispatches.

YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND:

A NAVAL ODE.

I.

YE Mariners of England!

That guard our native seas;

Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, The battle and the breeze!

Your glorious standard launch again

To match another foe!

And sweep through the deep,

While the stormy winds do blow;

While the battle rages loud and long,

And the stormy winds do blow.

II.

The spirits of your fathers

Shall start from every wave! —

For the deck it was their field of fame,

And Ocean was their grave:

Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell,

Your manly hearts shall glow,

As ye sweep through the deep,

While the stormy winds do blow;

While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow.

III.

Britannia needs no bulwarks,
No towers along the steep;