On the blanched sands a gloom:
Up the still, glistening beaches,
Up the creeks we will hie;
Over banks of bright seaweed
The ebb-tide leaves dry.

We will gaze, from the sand-hills,
At the white sleeping town;
At the church on the hill-side-
And then come back down.
Singing, “There dwells a loved one,
But cruel is she.

She left lonely for ever
The kings of the sea."

MY GOOD RIGHT HAND.-(Mackay.) I fell into grief and began to complain;

I looked for a friend, but I sought him in vain ; Companions were shy, and acquaintance were cold, They gave me good council, but dreaded their gold. "Let them go," I exclaimed; "I've a friend at my side,

To lift me and aid me, whatever betide.

To trust to the world is to build on the sand :—
I'll trust but in Heaven and my good Right Hand.”

My courage revived, in my fortune's despite,
And my hand was as strong as my spirit was light;
It raised me from sorrow, it saved me from pain:
It fed me, and clad me, again and again.
The friends who had left me came back every one,
And darkest advisers looked bright as the sun :
I need them no more, as they all understand,-
I thank thee, I trust thee, my good Right Hand!

THE BABY'S KISS.-(G. R. Emerson.)

[FOUNDED ON AN INCIDENT OF THE AMERICAN WAR.]
Rough and ready the troopers ride,
Pistol in holster and sword by side;

They have ridden long, they have ridden hard,
They are travel-stained and battle-scarred;

The hard ground shakes with their martial tramp,
And coarse is the laugh of the men of the camp.

They reach a spot where a mother stands,
With a baby, shaking its little hands,
Laughing aloud at the gallant sight

Of the mounted soldiers fresh from the fight.
The captain laughs out-" I will give you this,
A bright piece of gold, your baby to kiss."

"My darling's kisses cannot be sold,
But gladly he'll kiss a soldier bold."
He lifts up the babe with a manly grace,
And covers with kisses its smiling face,
Its rosy cheeks, and its dimpled charms,
And it crows with delight in the soldier's arms.
"Not all for the captain," the troopers call;
"The baby, we know, has a kiss for all."
To each soldier's breast the baby is pressed
By the strong rough men, and kissed and caressed.
And louder it laughs, and the lady's face
Wears a mother's smile at the fond embrace.

"Just such a kiss," cries one warrior grim,
"When I left my boy, I gave to him."
"And just such a kiss, on the parting day,
I gave to my girl, as asleep she lay."
Such were the words of these soldiers brave,
And their eyes were moist when the kiss they gave.

THE BATTLE OF THE BALTIC. (Thomas Campbell.)

Of Nelson and the North,

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 captains 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 hailed 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 blessed 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 woful sight
Where the fires of funeral light

Died away.

Now joy, old England, raise!

For the tidings of thy might, By thy festal cities' blaze,

Whilst the 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 thy 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!-

THE CAVALIER.-(Scott.)

While the dawn on the mountain was misty and grey, My true love has mounted his steed, and away Over hill, over valley, o'er dale and o'er down ;— Heaven shield the brave gallant that fights for the crown!

He has doff'd the silk doublet the breast-plate to bear:

He has placed the steel-cap o'er his long flowing

hair;

From his belt to his stirrup his broadsword hangs down,

Heaven shield the brave gallant that fights for the crown!

For the rights of fair England, that broadsword he draws;

Her king is his leader, her Church is his cause;
His watchword is honour, his pay is renown ;-
God strike with the gallant that strikes for the
crown!

They may boast of their Fairfax, their Waller, and all

The round-headed rebels of Westminster Hall;