And whizzing and hissing,
And dripping and skipping,
And whitening and brightening,
And quivering and shivering,
And hitting and spitting,
And shining and twining,
And rattling and battling,
And shaking and quaking,
And pouring and roaring,
And waving and raving,
And tossing and crossing,
And flowing and growing,
And running and stunning,
And hurrying and skurrying,
And glittering and frittering,
And gathering and feathering,
And dinning and spinning,
And foaming and roaming,
And dropping and hopping,
And working and jerking,
And heaving and cleaving,
And thundering and floundering;

And falling and crawling and sprawling,
And driving and riving and striving,

And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling,
And sounding and bounding and rounding,
And bubbling and troubling and doubling,
Dividing and gliding and sliding,

And grumbling and rumbling and tumbling And clattering and battering and shattering ; And gleaming and steaming and streaming and beaming,

And rushing and flushing and brushing and gushing, And flapping and wrapping and clapping and slapping,

And curling and whiling and purling and twirling, Retreating and beating and meeting and sheeting, Delaying and straying and playing and spraying, Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing

Recoiling, turmoiling and toiling and boiling, And thumping and flumping and bumping and jumping,

And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing,

And so never ending, but always descending, Sounds and motions for ever and ever are blending, All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproarAnd this way the water comes down at Lodore. Southey.

BATTLE OF THE BALTIC.

F Nelson and the North

OF

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 flush'd
To anticipate the scene;
And her van the fleeter rush'd
O'er the deadly space between.

"Hearts of oak!" our captain 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 hail'd 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 thy 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 the 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!

Campbell.

ALEXANDER SELKIRK'S SOLILOQUY.

I AM monarch of all I survey

My right there is none to dispute;
From the centre all round to the sea,
I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
O solitude! where are the charms

That sages have seen in thy face?
Better dwell in the midst of alarms,
Than reign in this horrible place.

I am out of humanity's reach,

I must finish my journey alone,
Never hear the sweet music of speech-
I start at the sound of my own.
The beasts that roam over the plain
My form with indifference see;
They are so unacquainted with man,
Their tameness is shocking to me.

86

Society, friendship, and love,
Divinely bestowed upon man,
Oh, had I the wings of a dove,
How soon would I taste you again!
My sorrows I then might assuage
In the ways of religion and truth;
Might learn from the wisdom of age,
And be cheered by the sallies of youth.

Religion! what treasure untold
Resides in that heavenly word!
More precious than silver and gold,
Or all that this earth can afford:
But the sound of the church-going bell
These valleys and rocks never heard;
Never sighed at the sound of a knell,
Or smiled when a Sabbath appeared.

Ye winds! that have made me your sport,
Convey to this desolate shore
Some cordial endearing report

Of a land I shall visit no more.
My friends, do they now and then send
A wish or a thought after me?
Oh, tell me I yet have a friend,
Though a friend I am never to see.

How fleet is a glance of the mind!
Compared with the speed of its flight,
The tempest itself lags behind,

And the swift-winged arrows of light.
When I think of my own native land,

In a moment I seem to be there;
But, alas! recollection at hand

Soon hurries me back to despair.

But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest,
The beast is laid down in his lair,
Even here is a season of rest,

And I to my cabin repair.