Heaven help us! 'twas a thing beyond Description wretched: such a wherry Perhaps ne'er ventur'd on a pond, Or cross'd a ferry.
For ploughing in the salt sea-field, It would have made the boldest shudder; Untarr'd, uncompass'd, and unkeel'd, No sail-no rudder.
From neighbouring woods he interlaced His sorry skiff with wattled willows; And thus equipp'd he would have pass'd The foaming billows-
But Frenchmen caught him on the beach, His little Argo sorely jeering; Till tidings of him chanced to reach Napoleon's hearing.
With folded arms Napoleon stood, Serene alike in peace and danger; And in his wonted attitude,
Address'd the stranger :
'Rash man that wouldst yon channel pass On twigs and staves so rudely fashion'd; Thy heart with some sweet British lass Must be impassion'd.'
'I have no sweetheart,' said the lad; 'But-absent long from one another— Great was the longing that I had
'And so thou shalt,' Napoleon said, 'Ye've both my favour fairly won; A noble mother must have bred
He gave the tar a piece of gold,
And with a flag of truce commanded He should be shipp'd to England Old, And safely landed.
Our sailor oft could scantly shift To find a dinner plain and hearty; But never changed the coin and gift Of Bonaparte.
A PARROT, from the Spanish main,
and early caged came o'er, With bright wings, to the bleak domain Of Mullah's shore.
To spicy groves where he had won
His plumage of resplendent hue, His native fruits, and skies, and sun, He bade adieu.
For these he changed the smoke of turf, A heathery land and misty sky, And turned on rocks and raging surf His golden eye.
But petted in our climate cold,
He lived and chattered many a day : Until with age, from green and gold His wings grew grey.
At last when blind, and seeming dumb, He scolded, laugh'd, and spoke no more,
A Spanish stranger chanced to come
To Mullah's shore;
He hail'd the bird in Spanish speech, The bird in Spanish speech replied; Flapp'd round the cage with joyous screech, Dropt down, and died.
ON Linden when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser rolling rapidly.
But Linden saw another sight When the drum beat at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
By torch and trumpet fast arrayed, Each horseman drew his battle blade, And furious every charger neighed To join the dreadful revelry.
Then shook the hill, with thunder riven; Then rushed the steed, to battle driven; And louder than the bolts of Heaven Far flashed the red artillery.
But redder yet that light shall glow On Linden's hills of stainèd snow, And bloodier yet the torrent flow 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 deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory or the grave! Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry.
Few, few shall part where many meet; The snow shall be their winding-sheet; And every turf beneath their feet
Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.
MEN of England! who inherit
Rights that cost your sires their blood Men whose undegenerate spirit
Has been proved on land and flood:
Yours are Hampden's, Russell's glory, Sidney's matchless shade is yours,— Martyrs in heroic story,
Worth a thousand Agincourts!
We're the sons of sires that baffled Crown'd and mitred tyranny: They defied the field and scaffold, For their birthright-so will we.
COME all ye jolly shepherds
That whistle through the glen,
I'll tell ye of a secret
That courtiers dinna ken;
What is the greatest bliss
That the tongue o' man can name?
'Tis to woo a bonny lassie
When the kye comes hame.
When the kye comes hame, When the kye comes hame,
'Tween the gloamin' and the mirk, When the kye comes hame.
"Tis not beneath the coronet, Nor canopy of state,
"Tis not on couch of velvet, Nor arbour of the great- 'Tis beneath the spreading birk, In the glen without the name, Wi' a bonny, bonny lassie, When the kye comes hame.
See yonder pawky shepherd That lingers on the hill- His yowes are in the fauld, And his lambs are lying still; Yet he downa gang to bed, For his heart is in a flame To meet his bonny lassie
When the kye comes hame.
When the little wee bit heart Rises high in the breast, And the little wee bit stars Rise bright in the east, O there's a joy sae dear,
That the heart can hardly frame,
Wi' a bonny, bonny lassie,
When the kye comes hame.
Then since all nature joins In this love without alloy, O' wha wad prove a traitor To nature's dearest joy? Or wha wad choose a crown, Wi' its pearls and its fame, And miss his bonny lassie When the kye comes hame? When the kye comes hame, When the kye comes hame,
'Tween the gloamin' and the mirk, When the kye comes hame.
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