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THE SPANISH ARMADA.
From all the batteries of the Tower peal'd 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 streams of flags and pikes dash'd down each roaring
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, for wild Blackheath, the warlike errand went;
And roused, in many an ancient hall, the gallant squires of Kent: Southward, for Surrey's pleasant hills, flew those bright coursers forth;
High on black 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, all night from hill to
Till the proud Peak unfurl'd the flag o'er Derwent's rocky dales ;
[THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY is better known as the great historian, the acute biographer, the brilliant essayist, than as a poet. The poems he has written are few, but they are of a high order. "The Lays of Ancient Rome" have the true heroic clang, and most vividly portray the scenes they chronicle. Lord Macaulay was born in 1800, and died in 1859.]
The Castle by the Sea.
AST thou seen that lordly castle,
That Castle by the Sea?
The clouds float gorgeously.
"And fain it would stoop downward To the mirror'd wave below;
And fain it would soar upward
In the evening's crimson glow."
"Well have I seen that castle,
"The winds and the waves of ocean, Had they a merry chime?
Didst thou hear, from those lofty chambers, The harp and the minstrel's rhyme?"
"The winds and the waves of ocean,
They rested quietly,
But I heard on the gale a sound of wail,
"And sawest thou on the turrets The king and his royal bride?
And the wave of their crimson mantles?
And the golden crown of pride?
N what foundation stands the warrior's pride, How just his hopes, let Swedish Charles decide;
A frame of adamant, a soul of fire,
No dangers fright him, and no labours tire;
War sounds the trump, he rushes to the field;
Behold surrounding kings their powers combine,
And one capitulate and one resign;
Peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms in vain :
The march begins in military state,
But did not chance at length her error mend?
Or hostile millions press him to the ground?
His fall was destined to a barren strand,
He left the name, at which the world grew pale,
To point a moral, or adorn a tale.
DR. JOHNSON. [From "The Vanity of Human Wishes."]
[Speaking of the great DOCTOR, Bishop Gleig justly observes:-"Without claiming for him the highest place among his contemporaries in any single department of literature, we may use one of his own expressions, that he brought more mind to every subject, and had a greater variety of knowledge ready for all occasions, than almost any other man! This holds true of his poetry, which is majestic and sonorous in flow, and moral in purpose. The publication of his "London" paved the way to