Think what our ancestors have done; Though we like harmless sheep should feed, We shall be thought to share the feast. 7. Gay LXXXVI THE OLD MAN'S COMFORTS, AND HOW HE GAINED THEM 'You are old, Father William,' the young man cried, The few locks which are left you are grey; You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man 'In the days of my youth,' Father William replied, 'I remember'd that youth would fly fast, And abused not my health and my vigour at first, That I never might need them at last.' '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, Now tell me the reason, I pray.' ‘I am cheerful, young man,' Father William replied, 'Let the cause thy attention engage; In the days of my youth I remember'd my God, R. Southey LXXXVII THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE I Half a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. Charge for the guns!' he said: Rode the six hundred. 2 'Forward, the Light Brigade!' Some one had blunder'd. Theirs not to make reply, 3 Cannon to right of them, Cannon in front of them Volley'd and thunder'd ; Storm'd at with shot and shell, Rode the six hundred. 4 Flash'd all their sabres bare, All the world wonder'd: Cossack and Russian Reel'd from the sabre stroke Shatter'd and sunder'd; Then they rode back, but not- 5 Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon behind them Volley'd and thunder'd ; They that had fought so well Left of six hundred. 6 When can their glory fade? Honour the charge they made! Noble six hundred ! A. Tennyson LXXXVIII YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND Ye mariners of England, That guard our native seas; Whose flag has braved a thousand years The battle and the breeze! Your glorious standard launch again, To match another foe! And sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow; While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow. The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave !— For the deck it was their field of fame, Where Blake and mighty Nelson feil, 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 winds do blow; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow. The meteor flag of England Till danger's troubled night depart, Then, then, ye ocean warriors! Our song and feast shall flow When the storm has ceased to blow: And the storm has ceased to blow. T. Campbell N |