Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell, And the stormy winds do blow. III. Britannia needs no bulwark, Her march is o'er the mountain wave, Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak She quells the floods below,— As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow. IV. The meteor flag of England Shall yet terrific burn; Till Danger's troubled night depart, And the star of Peace return. Then, then, ye ocean warriors! Our song and feast shall flow When the storm has ceased to blow; THOMAS MOORE. Born, 1780; Died, 1852. TO MRS. TIGHE. I SAW thy form in youthful prime, As streams that run o'er golden mines Nor seem to know the wealth that shines Within their gentle tide, Mary! So veil'd beneath a simple guise Thy radiant genius shone ; If souls could always dwell above, To live with them is far less sweet Than to remember thee, Mary! REMEMBRANCES. OFT in the stilly night Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, Fond memory brings the light Of other days around me : The smiles, the tears Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken ; The eyes that shone, Now dimm'd and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken! Thus in the stilly night Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, Sad memory brings the light Of other days around me. When I remember all The friends so link'd together I've seen around me fall, Like leaves in wintry weather, I feel like one Who treads alone Some banquet-hall deserted, Whose lights are fled, Whose garlands dead, And all but he departed. Thus in the stilly night Ere Slumber's chain hath bound me, Sad memory brings the light Of other days around me. REGINALD HEBER, BISHOP OF CALCUTTA. Born, 1783; Died, 1826. THE Lord of Might from Sinai's brow Gave forth His voice of thunder; And Israel lay on earth below, Outstretch'd in fear and wonder: Beneath His feet was pitchy night, And at His left hand and His right The rocks were rent asunder. The Lord of Love on Calvary, A meek and suffering stranger, Upraised to heaven His languid eye In nature's hour of danger; For us He bore the weight of woe, For us He gave His blood to flow, And met His Father's anger. The Lord of Love, the Lord of Might, Shall back return to claim His right O'er death and hell defeated. NIGHT. GOD, that madest earth and heaven, Who the day for toil hast given, May Thine angel-guards defend us! ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. Born, 1784; Died, 1842. TO HIS WIFE. O! MY love's like the steadfast sun, Even while I muse, I see thee sit |