“ But hark! the cry is Astur: And lo! the ranks divide; And the great Lord of Luna Comes with his stately stride. Upon his ample shoulders Clangs loud the fourfold shield, And in his hand he shakes the brand Which none but he can wield.
He smiled on those bold Romans A smile serene and high; He eyed the flinching Tuscans, And scorn was in his eye. Quoth he, ‘The she-wolf's litter Stands savagely at bay: But will ye dare to follow, If Astur clears the way?’
Then, whirling up his broadsword With both hands to the height, He rushed against Horatius, And smote with all his might. ”

“ Humanity with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate! We know what Master laid thy keel, What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, What anvils rang, what hammers beat, In what a forge and what a heat Were shaped the anchors of thy hope! Fear not each sudden sound and shock, 'Tis of the wave and not the rock; 'Tis but the flapping of the sail, And not a rent made by the gale! In spite of rock and tempest's roar, In spite of false lights on the shore, Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea! ”

“ What would I burn for, and whom not spare? I, who had faith in an easy-chair.
Now do I see old tales are true, Here in the clutch of a savage foe; Now shall I know what my fathers knew, Bodily anguish and bitter woe, Naked and bound in the strong sun's glare, Far from my civilised easy-chair.
Now have I tasted and understood That old-world feeling of mortal hate; For the eyes all round us are hot with blood; They will kill us coolly—they do but wait; While I, I would sell ten lives, at least, For one fair stroke at that devilish priest. ”

“ Thee and thine, thy crown and realm, One last wreck shall overwhelm. Woe is me, Alhama!
He who holds no laws in awe, He must perish by the law; And Granada must be won, And thyself with her undone.’ Woe is me, Alhama!
Fire flashed from out the old Moor's eyes, The monarch's wrath began to rise, Because he answered, and because He spake exceeding well of laws. Woe is me, Alhama!
‘There is no law to say such things As may disgust the ear of kings:’ Thus, snorting with his choler, said The Moorish King, and doomed him dead. Woe is me, Alhama! ”

“ While the echoes of the trumpet yet fill the people's ears, And Hogni casts by the war-horn, and his Dwarf-wrought sword uprears, All those doors aforesaid open, and in pour the streams of steel, The best of the Eastland champions, the bold men of Atli's weal: They raise no cry of battle nor cast forth threat of woe, And their helmed and hidden faces from each other none may know: Then a light in the hall ariseth, and the fire of battle runs All adown the front of the Niblungs in the face of the mighty ones ”

“ As death in the world first fashioned, through the feast-hall doth he stride. And so once more do the Niblungs sweep that murder-flood of men From the hall of toils and treason, and the doors swing to again. Then again is there peace for a little within the fateful fold; But the Niblungs look about them, and but few folk they behold Upright on their feet for the battle: now they climb aloft no more, Nor cast the dead from the windows; but they raise a rampart of war, And its stones are the fallen East-folk, and no lowly wall is that. ”

“ And I be not forgotten in my grave.’ And, with a mournful voice, Rustum replied: ‘Fear not! as thou hast said, Sohrab, my son, So shall it be; for I will burn my tents, And quit the host, and bear thee hence with me, And carry thee away to Seistan, And place thee on a bed, and mourn for thee, With the snow-headed Zal, and all my friends. And I will lay thee in that lovely earth, And heap a stately mound above thy bones, And plant a far-seen pillar over all, And men shall not forget thee in thy grave. And I will spare thy host; yea, let them go! Let them all cross the Oxus back in peace! ”

“ So great a charm is England's right, That hearts enlarged together flow, And each man rises up a knight To work the evil-thinkers woe. And, girt with ancient truth and grace, We do our service and our suit, And each can be, whate'er his race, A Chandos or a Montacute. Thou, Mistress, whom we serve to-day, Bless the real swords that we shall wield, Repeat the call we now obey In sunset lands, on some fair field. Thy flag shall make some Huron rock As dear to us as Windsor's keep, And arms thy Thames hath nerved shall mock The surgings of th' Ontarian deep. ”

“ Deep graved in every British heart, O never let those names depart! Say to your sons,—Lo, here his grave, Who victor died on Gadite wave; To him, as to the burning levin, Short, bright, resistless course was given. Where'er his country's foes were found Was heard the fated thunder's sound, Till burst the bolt on yonder shore, Rolled, blazed, destroyed,—and was no more.
Nor mourn ye less his perished worth, Who bade the conqueror go forth, And launched that thunderbolt of war On Egypt, Hafnia, Trafalgar; Who, born to guide such high emprise, For Britain's weal was early wise; Alas! ”

“ The Scian and the Teian muse, The hero's harp, the lover's lute, Have found the fame your shores refuse: Their place of birth alone is mute To sounds which echo further west Than your sires' ‘Islands of the Blest.’
The mountains look on Marathon— And Marathon looks on the sea; And, musing there an hour alone, I dreamed that Greece might still be free; For, standing on the Persians' grave, I could not deem myself a slave.
A king sate on the rocky brow Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis; And ships by thousands lay below, And men in nations;—all were his! ”

“ Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murder fed, Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame, And spare the meek usurper's holy head! Above, below, the rose of snow, Twined with her blushing foe, we spread: The bristled boar in infant-gore Wallows beneath the thorny shade. Now, brothers, bending o'er the accursed loom, Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.
‘Edward, lo! to sudden fate (Weave we the woof; the thread is spun;) Half of thy heart we consecrate. (The web is wove; the work is done.) Stay, O stay! ”

“ Farewell! Farewell! the voice you hear Has left its last soft tone with you; Its next must join the seaward cheer, And shout among the shouting crew.
The accents which I scarce could form Beneath your frown's controlling check, Must give the word, above the storm, To cut the mast and clear the wreck.
The timid eye I dared not raise, The hand that shook when pressed to thine, Must point the guns upon the chase, Must bid the deadly cutlass shine.
To all I love, or hope, or fear, Honour or own, a long adieu! To all that life has soft and dear, Farewell! save memory of you! ”

“ Farewell, ye dungeons dark and strong, The wretch's destinie: M'Pherson's time will not be long On yonder gallows tree.
Sae rantingly, sae wantonly, Sae dauntingly gaed he; He played a spring and danced it round, Below the gallows tree.
Oh, what is death but parting breath?— On monie a bloody plain I've dared his face, and in this place I scorn him yet again!
Untie these bands from off my hands, And bring to me my sword! And there's no a man in all Scotland, But I'll brave him at a word.
I've lived a life of sturt and strife ”

“ And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity!
There are who ask not if thine eye Be on them; who, in love and truth, Where no misgiving is, rely Upon the genial sense of youth: Glad Hearts! without reproach or blot; Who do thy work, and know it not: May joy be theirs while life shall last! And Thou, if they should totter, teach them to stand fast!
Serene will be our days and bright, And happy will our nature be, When love is an unerring light, And joy its own security. And they a blissful course may hold Even now, who, not unwisely bold, Live in the spirit of this creed ”

“ They now to fight are gone, Armour on armour shone, Drum now to drum did groan, To hear was wonder; That with the cries they make The very earth did shake, Trumpet to trumpet spake, Thunder to thunder.
Well it thine age became, O noble Erpingham, Which did the signal aim To our hid forces! When from the meadow by, Like a storm suddenly, The English archery Struck the French horses.
With Spanish yew so strong, Arrows a cloth-yard long, That like to serpents stung, Piercing the weather; None from his fellow starts, But playing manly parts, And like true English hearts Stuck close together. ”

“ HONOUR IN BUD
It is not growing like a tree In bulk doth make man better be: A lily of a day Is fairer far in May: Although it fall and die that night, It was the plant and flower of light.
Jonson.
V
THE JOY OF BATTLE
Arm, arm, arm, arm! the scouts are all come in; Keep your ranks close, and now your honours win. Behold from yonder hill the foe appears; Bows, bills, glaives, arrows, shields, and spears! Like a dark wood he comes, or tempest pouring; O view the wings of horse the meadows scouring! The vanguard marches bravely. Hark, the drums! ”

“ See, safe thro' shoal and rock, How they follow in a flock, Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground, Not a spar that comes to grief! The peril, see, is past, All are harboured to the last, And just as Hervé Riel hollas ‘Anchor!’—sure as fate Up the English come, too late!
So, the storm subsides to calm: They see the green trees wave On the o'erlooking Grève. Hearts that bled are stanched with balm. ‘Just our rapture to enhance, Let the English take the bay, Gnash their teeth and glare askance, As they cannonade away! ”

“ O, Brignall banks are wild and fair, And Greta woods are green, And you may gather garlands there Would grace a summer queen. And as I rode by Dalton-hall, Beneath the turrets high, A Maiden on the castle wall Was singing merrily:
‘O, Brignall banks are fresh and fair, And Greta woods are green; I'd rather rove with Edmund there Than reign our English queen.’
‘If, Maiden, thou wouldst wend with me, To leave both tower and town, Thou first must guess what life lead we That dwell by dale and down. ”

“ For day is a drifting terror till I raise the shroud with my breath, And they see strange bows above them and the two go locked to death.
But whether in calm or wrack-wreath, whether by dark or day I heave them whole to the conger or rip their plates away, First of the scattered legions, under a shrieking sky, Dipping between the rollers, the English Flag goes by.
The dead dumb fog hath wrapped it—the frozen dews have kissed— The morning stars have hailed it, a fellow-star in the mist. What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my breath to dare, Ye have but my waves to conquer. ”

“ Behold, the English beach Pales in the flood with men, with wives and boys, Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep-mouthed sea, Which like a mighty whiffler 'fore the king Seems to prepare his way: so let him land, And solemnly see him set on to London. So swift a pace hath thought that even now You may imagine him upon Blackheath; Where that his lords desire him to have borne His bruisèd helmet and his bended sword Before him through the city: he forbids it, Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride, Giving full trophy, signal and ostent, Quite from himself to God. ”

“ Turned Hogni unto the spear-wall, and smote from where he stood, And hewed with his sword two-handed as the axe-man in a wood: Before his sword was a champion, and the edges clave to the chin, And the first man fell in the feast-hall of those that should fall therein. Then man with man was dealing, and the Niblung host of war Was swept by the leaping iron, as the rock anigh the shore By the ice-cold waves of winter: yet a moment Gunnar stayed As high in his hand unblooded he shook his awful blade; And he cried: ‘O Eastland champions, do ye behold it here, The sword of the ancient Giuki? ”

“ Volumed and fast, and rolling far, The cloud enveloped Scotland's war, As down the hill they broke; Nor martial shout nor minstrel tone Announced their march; their tread alone, At times one warning trumpet blown, At times a stifled hum, Told England, from his mountain-throne King James did rushing come. Scarce could they hear, or see their foes, Until at weapon-point they close. They close in clouds of smoke and dust, With sword-sway and with lance's thrust; And such a yell was there Of sudden and portentous birth, As if men fought upon the earth And fiends in upper air ”

“ Then out spake brave Horatius, The Captain of the gate: ‘To every man upon this earth Death cometh soon or late; And how can man die better Than facing fearful odds, For the ashes of his fathers And the temples of his Gods,
And for the tender mother Who dandled him to rest, And for the wife who nurses His baby at her breast, And for the holy maidens Who feed the eternal flame, To save them from false Sextus That wrought the deed of shame?
Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, With all the speed ye may; I, with two more to help me, Will hold the foe in play. ”

“ He sang of men's hunger and labour, and their love and their breeding of broil. And their hope that is fostered of famine, and their rest that is fashioned of toil: Fame then and the sword he sang of, and the hour of the hardy and wise, When the last of the living shall perish, and the first of the dead shall arise, And the torch shall be lit in the daylight, and God unto man shall pray, And the heart shall cry out for the hand in the fight of the uttermost day. ”