Macmillan's Reading Books. Book V. Unknown

and again taking the hand of his dying friend and commander, congratulated him on having gained a complete victory. How many of the enemy were taken, he did not know, as it was impossible to perceive them distinctly, but fourteen or fifteen at least. "That's well," cried Nelson, "but I bargained for twenty." And then, in a stronger voice, he said, "Anchor,! Hardy, anchor." Hardy upon this hinted that Admiral Collingwood would take upon himself the direction of affairs. "Not while I live, Hardy," said the dying Nelson, ineffectually endeavouring to raise himself from the bed; "do you anchor." His previous order for preparing to anchor had shown how clearly he foresaw the necessity of this. Presently, calling Hardy back, he said to him in a low voice, "Don't throw me overboard," and he desired that he might be buried by his parents, unless it should please the king to order otherwise. "Kiss me, Hardy," said he. Hardy knelt down and kissed his cheek, and Nelson said, "Now, I am satisfied. Thank God, I have done my duty." Hardy stood over him in silence for a moment or two, then knelt again and kissed his forehead. "Who is that?" said Nelson; and being informed, he replied, "God bless you, Hardy." And Hardy then left him for ever.

SOUTHEY.

      [Note:The death of Nelson took place at the Battle of Trafalgar, 1805.]

* * * * *

      BATTLE OF THE BALTIC

I

             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.

II

             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.

III

             But the might of England flushed

             To anticipate the scene;

             And her van the fleeter rushed

             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.

IV

             Again! again! again!

             And the havoc did not slack,

             Till a feebler cheer the Dane

             To our cheering sent us back;—

             Their shots along the deep slowly boom;—

             Then cease—and all is wail,

             As they strike the shattered sail;

             Or, in conflagration pale,

             Light the gloom.

V

             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."

VI

             Then Denmark blest 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 looked smiling bright

             O'er a wide and woeful sight,

             Where the fires of funeral light

             Died away.

VII

             Now joy, Old England, raise!

             For the tidings of thy might,

             By the 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!

VIII

             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!

CAMPBELL

      [Notes: This is the first specimen of the "ode" in this book. Notice the variety in length between the lines, and draw up a scheme of the rhymes in each stanza. The battle was fought, and Copenhagen bombarded, in April, 1801.

      It was ten of April morn by the chime. It was ten o'clock on the morning in April.

      Like the hurricane eclipse. The eclipse of the sun in storm.]

* * * * *

      LOCHINVAR

          Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the west,

          Through all the wide border his steed is the best;

          And, save his good broad-sword, he weapon had none;

          He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone!

          So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,

          There never was knight like the young Lochinvar!

          He