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While the battle rages long and loud,
And the stormy tempests blow.
Britannia needs no bulwarks,
No towers along the steep;
Her march is o'er the mountain-waves,
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 tempests blow;
When the battle rages long and loud,
And the stormy tempests blow.
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
To the fame of your name,
When the storm has ceased to blow;
When the fiery fight is heard no more,
And the storm has ceased to blow.

CAMPBELL.

13.-THE TOWN AND COUNTRY MOUSE.

ONCE on a time, (so runs the fable,)
A country mouse, right hospitable,
Received a town mouse at his board,
Just as farmer might a lord :
A frugal mouse, upon the whole,
Yet loved his friend, and had a soul,
Knew what was handsome, and would do't
On just occasion, “coute qui coute.
He brought him bacon, nothing lean,
Pudding that might have pleased a dean;
Cheese, such as men in Suffolk make,
But wished it Stilton for his sake;
Yet to his guest though no way sparing,
He ate himself the rind and paring.

Our courtier scarce could touch a bit,
But showed his breeding and his wit;
He did his best to seem to eat,
And cried, “I vow you're mighty neat :
“ But then, my friend, this savage scene !
" For Heaven's sake, come, live with men.
“ Consider, mice, like men, must die,
“ Both small and great, both you and I:
“ Then spend your life in joy and sport.-
“ This doctrine, friend, I learned at court."
The veriest hermit in the nation,
May yield, Heaven knows, to strong temptation.

A way they come, through thick and thin,
To a tall house near Lincoln's Inn:
'Twas on the night of a debate,
When all their lordships had sat late.

Behold the place, where, if a poet
Shined in description, he might show it;
Tell how the moonbeam trembling falls,
And tips with silver all the walls ;
Palladian walls, Venetian doors,
Grotesco roofs, and stucco floors :
But let it, in a word, be said,
The moon was up, and men a-bed;
The guests withdrawn, had left the treat,
And down the mice sat, tête-à-tête.

Our courtier walks from dish to dish;
Tastes for his friend of fowl and fish;
Tells all their names, lays down the law,
" Que ça est bon! ah! goutez ça.
" That jelly's rich, this malmsey's healing;
“ Pray dip your whiskers and your tail in."
Was ever such a happy swain ?
He stuffs, and swills, and stuffs again.
“ I'm quite ashamed—'tis mighty rude
“ To eat so much—but all 's so good!

I have a thousand thanks to give

My lord alone knows how to live." No sooner said, but from the hall Rush chaplain, butler, dogs, and all: “A rat! a rat! clap to the door."The cat came bouncing on the floor!

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Oh! for the heart of Homer's mice,
Or gods to save them in a trice!
(It was by Providence, they think,
For your vile stucco has no chink.)
“ An't please your honour," quoth the peasant,
“ This same dessert is not so pleasant :
“ Give me again my hollow tree,
" A crust of bread, and liberty."

POPE.

14.-LOVE OF COUNTRY.

BREATHES there a man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,

“ This is my own, my native land !" Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned,

From wandering on a foreign strand!
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no minstrel-raptures swell:
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ;
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentered all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonoured, and unsung.
O Caledonia! stern and wild,
Meet nurse for a poetic child !
Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,
Land of the mountain and the flood,
Land of my sires ! what mortal hand
Can e'er untie the filial band,
That knits me to thy rugged strand !
Still as I view each well-known scene,
Think what is now, and what hath been,
Seems as to me of all bereft,
Sole friends thy woods and streams are left;
And thus I love thee better still
Even in extremity of ill.

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15.-ODE TO ELOQUENCE.

HEARD ye those loud contending waves

That shook Cecropia's pillared state ? Saw

ye the mighty from their graves
Look up, and tremble at her fate?
Who shall calm the angry storm?
Who the mighty task perform;

And bid the raging tumult cease ?
See the son of Hermes rise,
With syren tongue and speaking eyes,

Hush the noise, and soothe to peace.
See the olive branches waving

O'er Illissus' winding stream,
Their lovely limbs the Naiads laving,

The Muses smiling by, supreme!
See the nymphs and swains advancing,
To harmonious measures dancing:

Grateful Io Pæans rise
To thee, O Power! who canst inspire
Soothing words—or words of fire,

And shookst thy plumes in Attic skies !
Lo! from the regions of the north

The reddening storm of battle pours, Rolls along the trembling earth,

Fastens on the Olynthian towers. “ Where rests the sword? where sleep the brave? “ Awake! Cecropia's ally save

“ From the fury of the blast; “Burst the storm on Phocis' walls ! " Rise! or Greece for ever falls,

“Up, or Freedom breathes her last!” The jarring states, obsequious now,

View the Patriot's hand on high;
Thunder gathering on his brow,

Lightning Aashing from his eye.
Borne by the tide of words along,
One voice, one mind, inspire the throng !

"To arms ! to arms! to arms!” they cry,-
“Grasp the shield, and draw the sword,
Lead us to Philippi's lord,

Let us conquer him, or die !”
Ah, Eloquence! thou wast undone,

Wast from thy native country driven,
When tyranny eclipsed the sun,

And blotted out the stars of heaven!

When Liberty from Greece withdrew,
And o'er the Adriatic flew
To where the Tiber

pours

his urnShe struck the rude Tarpeian rock, Sparks were kindled by the stroke

Again thy fires began to burn !
Now shining forth, thou madest compliant

The conscript fathers to thy charms,
Roused the world-bestriding giant,

Sinking fast in slavery's arms!
I see thee stand by Freedom's fane,
Pouring the persuasive strain,

Giving vast conceptions birth :
Hark! I hear thy thunders sound,
Shake the forum round and round,

Shake the pillars of the earth!
First-born of Liberty divine !

Put on Religion's bright array,
Speak! and the starless grave shall shine

The portal of eternal day.
Rise, kindling with the orient beam,
Let Calvary's hill inspire the theme,

Unfold the garments roll'd in blood !
Oh, touch the heart, touch all its chords
With all the omnipotence of words,

And point the way to heaven—to God!

CAREY.

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