They say it was a shocking sight For many a thousand bodies there But things like that, you know must be After a famous victory. "Great praise the Duke of Marlboro' won, And our good Prince Eugene." No The ship was as still as she could be, Her sails from heaven received no motion, Her keel was steady in the ocean. Without either sign or sound of their shock The good old Abbot of Aberbrothok Had placed that bell on the Inchcape Rock; When the Rock was hid by the surges' swell, The sun in heaven was shining gay, All things were joyful on that day; The sea-birds scream'd as they wheel'd round, And there was joyance in their sound. The buoy of the Inchcape Bell was seen His eye was on the Inchcape float; Down sunk the bell, with a gurgling sound, The bubbles rose and burst around; Quoth Sir Ralph, "The next who comes to the Rock Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok." Sir Ralph the Rover sail'd away, He scour'd the seas for many a day; And now grown rich with plunder'd store, He steers his course for Scotland's shore. So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky On the deck the Rover takes his stand, "Can'st hear," said one, "the breakers roar? But I wish I could hear the Inchcape Bell.” They hear no sound, the swell is strong; Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair, But even in his dying fear One dreadful sound could the Rover hear, 66 “γου COMFORT IN AGE. OU are old, Father William," the young man cried, You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man, "In the days of my youth," Father William replied, And abused not my health and my vigour at first, "You are old, Father William," the young man cried, "And pleasures with youth pass away; And yet you lament not the days that are gone, "In the days of my youth," Father William replied, I remember'd that youth could not last; I thought of the future whatever I did, That I never might grieve for the past." "You are old, Father William," the young man cried, "And life must be hastening away; You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death, "I am cheerful, young man," Father William replied, In the days of my youth I remember'd my God, HOHENLINDEN. BY THOMAS CAMPBELL.-1777-1844. [THOMAS CAMPBELL, the son of a merchant in Glasgow, was born on the 27th of July, 1777. He was the youngest of ten children, and was educated with great care. At the age of thirteen he was placed in the University of Glasgow, where he gained many honours. In April, 1799, at the early age of twenty-one, he published his "Pleasures of Hope,” which passed through four editions in the course of a twelvemonth. After its publication he went to the Continent, and, from the monastery of St. Jacob, was a spectator of the Battle of Hohenlinden. His immortal stanzas on that conflict form one of the grandest battle-pieces that ever were written. In 1809 he published his "Gertrude of Wyoming,"- —an affecting tale of an Indian incursion on a Pennsylvanian village during the American War. For many years Campbell was editor of the "New Monthly Magazine." In 1827 he was elected Rector of the University of his native city,-an honour which was conferred upon him in the two following years. His lyrical productions are among the noblest in the English language. He died in 1844, at Boulogne, whither he had gone for the benefit of his health. He was buried in Westminster Abbey.] N Linden, when the sun was low, ON All bloodless lay the untrodden snow; Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, By torch and trumpet fast arrayed, To join the dreadful revelry. |