Toiling, --rejoicing,-sorrowing,

Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,

Each evening sees it close ;
Something attempted, something done,

Has earned a night's repose.

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,

For the lesson thou hast taught !
Thus at the flaming forge of life

Our fortunes must be wrought ;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought !


Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog

Good people all, of every sort,

Give ear unto my song ;
And if you find it wondrous short,

It cannot hold you long.

In Islington there was a Man,

Of whom the world might say,
That still a godly race he ran,

Whene'er he went to pray.

A kind and gentle heart he had,

To comfort friends and foes,
The naked every day he clad,

When he put on his clothes.

And in that town a Dog was found,

As many dogs there be,
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,

And curs of low degree.

This Dog and Man at first were friends ;

But when a pique began,
The Dog, to gain some private ends,

Went mad and bit the Man.

Around from all the neighbouring streets

The wond'ring neighbours ran,
And swore the Dog had lost his wits,

To bite so good a Man.
The wound it seem'd both sore and sad

To every Christian eye ;
And while they swore the Dog was mad,
They swore the Man would

die. But soon a wonder came to light,

That show'd the rogues they lied :
The Man recover'd of the bite,
The Dog it was that died.


The Outlaw

O, BRIGNALL banks are wild and fair,

And Greta woods are green,
And you may gather garlands there

Would grace a summer queen.
And as I rode by Dalton Hall

Beneath the turrets high, A Maiden on the castle wall

Was singing merrily,-
‘O, Brignall banks are fresh and fair,

And Greta woods are green ;
I'd rather rove with Edmund there,
Than reign our English queen.'

If, Maiden, thou wouldst wend with me,
To leave both tower and town,
Thou first must guess what life lead we,

That dwell by dale and down?
And if thou canst that riddle read,

As read full well you may,
Then to the greenwood shalt thou speed

As blithe as Queen of May.'
Yet sung she, ‘Brignall banks are fair,

And Greta woods are green ;
I'd rather rove with Edmund there,

Than reign our English queen.'

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'I read you by your bugle horn
And by your palfrey good,
I read you for a Ranger sworn,
To keep the king's greenwood.'
—‘A Ranger, lady, winds his horn,
And 'tis at peep of light;

His blast is heard at merry morn,
And mine at dead of night.'

Yet sung she, ‘Brignall banks are fair,
And Greta woods are gay;

I would I were with Edmund there,
To reign his Queen of May!

'With burnish'd brand and musketoon, So gallantly you come,

I read you for a bold Dragoon

That lists the tuck of drum.'

-'I list no more the tuck of drum,
No more the trumpet hear;

But when the beetle sounds his hum,
My comrades take the spear.
And O! though Brignall banks be fair,
And Greta woods be gay,

Yet mickle must the maiden dare,
Would reign my Queen of May !

'Maiden! a nameless life I lead,
A nameless death I'll die!

The fiend, whose lantern lights the mead
Were better mate than I !

And when I'm with my comrades met
Beneath the greenwood bough,
What once we were we all forget,
Nor think what we are now.'


Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair,
And Greta woods are green,
And you may gather garlands there
Would grace a summer queen.


Battle of the Baltic

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,
And the Prince of all the land
Led them on.-

Like leviathans afloat,
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.-

But the might of England Aush'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.

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 shatter'd sail ;
Or, in conflagration pale,
Light the gloom.

Out spoke the victor then
As he haild 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.'
Then Denmark bless'd 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 look'd smiling bright
O’er a wide and woeful sight,
Where the fires of funeral light


Died away.

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 !
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 !


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