"ALL WHO JOY WOULD WIN MUST SHARE IT; HAPPINESS WAS BORN A TWIN."-BYRON.

"LOVE IS LOVELIEST WHEN EMBALMED IN TEARS."-SCOTT.

With his white hair unbonneted the stout old Sheriff comes;
Behind him march the halberdiers, before him sound the

drums;

The yeomen round the market-cross make clear an ample
space,

For there behoves him to set up the standard of her Grace.
And haughtily the trumpets peal, and gaily dance the bells,
As slow upon the labouring wind the royal blazon swells.
Look how the lion of the sea lifts up his ancient crown,
And underneath his deadly paw treads the gay lilies down.
So stalked he when he turned to fight on that famed Picard
field,*

Bohemia's plume, and Genoa's bow, and Cæsar's eagle
shield;

So glared he when at Agincourt in wrath he turned to
bay,

And crushed and torn beneath his claws the princely hunters
lay.

Ho! strike the flag-staff deep, Sir Knight; ho! scatter flowers,
fair maids;

Ho! gunners, fire a loud salute; ho! gallants, draw your
blades:

Thou sun, shine on her joyously, ye breezes waft her wide,
Our glorious SEMPER EADEM†-the banner of our pride!
The freshening breeze of eve unfurled that banner's massive
fold,

The parting gleam of sunshine kissed that haughty scroll of
gold;

Night sank upon the dusky beach, and on the purple sea-
Such night in England ne'er had been, nor ne'er again shall
be.

*The "famed Picard field" was the battle of Creçy, won by Edward
III. and the Black Prince.

"Always the same'
e"-Elizabeth's motto.

66 WRONGS UNredressed, OR INSULTS UNAVENGED."-wordsworth.

"PLEASURES ARE LIKE POPPIES SPREAD-YOU SEIZE THE FLOWER, ITS BLOOM IS SHED."-BURNS.

"POWER, LIKE A DESOLATING PESTILENCE, POLLUTES WHATE'ER IT TOUCHES."-SHELLEY.

46

228

THE NOBLEST MIND THE BEST CONTENTMENT HAS."-SPENSER.

THE SPANISH ARMADA.

"ALL. PLACES THAT THE EYE OF HEAVEN VISITS, ARE TO A WISE MAN PORTS AND HAPPY HAVENS."-SHAKSPEARE.

From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, from Lynn to Milford
Bay,

That time of slumber was as bright and busy as the day.
For swift to east, and swift to west, the warning radiance spread;
High on St. Michael's Mount it shone-it shone on Beachy
Head:

Far on the deep the Spaniard saw, along each southern shire,
Cape beyond cape, in endless range, those twinkling points of

fire;

"ILLUSTRIOUS ACTS HIGH RAPTURES DO INFUSE."-waller.

"THE FLIGHTY PURPOSE NEVER IS O'ERTOOK, UNLESS THE DEED GO WITH IT."-SHAKSPEARE.

ERRORS, LIKE STRAWS, UPON THE SURFACE FLOW;

THE SPANISH ARMADA.

229

The fisher left his skiff to rock on Tamar's glittering waves;
The rugged miners poured to war from Mendip's sunless

caves :

O'er Longleat's towers,* o'er Cranbourne's oaks, the fiery
herald flew ;

He roused the shepherds of Stonehenge, the rangers of

Beaulieu.

Right sharp and quick the bells all night rang out from Bristol

town,

And ere the day three hundred horse had met on Clifton down.
The sentinel on Whitehall gate looked forth into the night,
And saw, o'erhanging Richmond Hill, the streak of blood-red
light.

Then bugle's note and cannon's roar the death-like silence
broke,

And with one start, and with one cry, the royal city woke :
At once on all her stately gates arose the answering fires ;
At once the loud alarum clashed from all her reeling spires;
From all the batteries of the Tower peeled loud the voice of
fear,

And all the thousand masts of Thames sent back a louder

cheer;

And from the farthest wards was heard the rush of hurrying
feet,

And the broad stream of flags and pikes dashed down each
roaring street.

And broader still became the blaze, and louder still the din,
As fast from every village round the horse came spurring in :
And eastward straight, from wild Blackheath, the warlike
errand went,

And raised in many an ancient hall the gallant squires of
Kent;

* Longleat, in Wiltshire, the seat of the Marquis of Bath.

HE WHO WOULD SEARCH FOR PEARLS MUST DIVE BELOW."-DRYDEN.

"TRUE AS THE DIAL TO THE SUN, ALTHOUGH IT BE NOT SHINED UPON."-SAMUEL BUTLER.

"GO TO YOUR BANQUET, THEN; BUT USE DELIGHT SO AS TO RISE STILL WITH AN APPETITE."-HERRICK.

230

TO KNOW, TO ESTEEM, TO LOVE, AND THEN TO PART,

THE SPANISH ARMADA.

Southward, from Surrey's pleasant hills, flew those bright
couriers forth;

High on bleak Hampstead's swarthy moor they started for the
north.

And on, and on, without a pause, untired they bounded still;
All night from tower to tower they sprang, they sprang from
hill to hill,

Till the proud Peak unfurled the flag o'er Darwin's rocky
dales-

Till like volcanoes flared to Heaven the stormy hills of

Wales

Till twelve fair counties saw the blaze on Malvern's lonely

height

Till streamed in crimson on the wind the Wrekin's crest of
light-

Till, broad and fierce, the star came forth on Ely's stately fane,
And tower and hamlet rose in arms o'er all the boundless

plain

Till Belvoir's lordly terraces the sign to Lincoln sent,
And Lincoln sped the message on o'er the wide vale of Trent-
Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burned on Gaunt's embattled
pile,

And the red glare of Skiddaw roused the burghers of Carlisle.
[THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY, LORD MACAULAY, born 1800, died
1859, was greatly distinguished as an essayist and an historian, while he
also showed no ordinary powers as a statesman, an orator, and a poet.
His "Historical Essays" and his picturesque "History of England” will
endure as long as the English language.]

MAKES UP LIFE'S TALE TO MANY A FEELING HEART."-COLERIDGE.

"I STROVE WITH NONE, FOR NONE WAS WORTH MY STRIFE; NATURE I LOVED, AND AFTER NATURE, ART."-LANDON.

"MEN'S EVIL MANNERS LIVE IN BRASS; THEIR VIRTUES WE WRITE IN WATER."-SHAKSPEARE.

66

OUR WISHES LENGTHEN AS OUR SUN DECLINES."-YOUNG.

THE BATTLE OF IVRY.

THE BATTLE OF IVRY.

JOW glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories

are !

And glory to our sovereign liege, King Henry of
Navarre !

Now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance,
Through thy corn-fields green and sunny vines, O pleasant
land of France!

And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the
waters,

Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters!
As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy,

For cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrought thy walls
annoy.

Hurrah! hurrah! a single field hath turned the chance of war;
Hurrah! hurrah! for Ivry and King Henry of Navarre ! *

Oh! how our hearts were beating when at the dawn of day
We saw the army of the League drawn out in long array,
With all its priest-led citizens and all its rebel peers,
And Appenzel's stout infantry and Egmont's Flemish spears!
There rode the blood of false Lorraine, the curses of our land;
And dark Mayenne† was in the midst, a truncheon in his hand.
And, as we looked on them, we thought of Seine's impurpled
flood;

And good Coligni's hoary hair, all dabbled with his blood;
And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate of war,
To fight for His own holy name and Henry of Navarre.

The King is come to marshal us, in all his armour dressed,
And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant crest.
* Henry IV.

The Duke of Mayenne, who commanded the army of the League.

"6 CONDEMN THE FAULT, BUT NOT THE ACTOR OF IT."-SHAKSPEARE.

231

"HOW FADING ARE THE JOYS WE DOTE UPON LIKE APPARITIONS SEEN AND GONE."-NORRIS.