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Here's a health to thee, Mary,
Here's a health to thee;
The drinkers are gone,
And I am alone,
To think of home and thee, Mary.
There are some who may shine o'er thee, Mary,
And many as frank and free,
And a few as fair;
But the summer air
Is not more sweet to me, Mary.
I have thought of thy last low sigh, Mary,
Be thou but true to me, Mary,
And at set of sun,
When my task is done,
Be sure that I'm ever with thee, Mary.
BATTLE OF TALAVERA.
Hark! heard you not those hoofs of dreadful note?
Red battle stamps his foot, and nations feel the shock.
Lo! where the giant on the mountain stands,
Restless it rolls, now fixed, and now anon
Flashing afar, and at his iron feet
Destruction cowers to mark what deeds are done;
For on this morn three potent nations meet,
To shed before his shrine the blood he deems most
Three hosts combine to offer sacrifice;
Three tongues prefer strange orisons on high;
Are met—as if at home they could not die—
And fertilize the field that each pretends to gain.
There shall they rot-ambition's honoured fools! Yes! honour decks the turf that wraps their clay ! Vain sophistry! in these behold the tools, The broken tools, that tyrants cast away. By myriads, where they dare to pave their way With human hearts-to what ?-a dream alone. Can despots compass aught that hails their sway ? Or call with truth one span of earth their own, Save that wherein at last they crumble bone by bone?
I did not weep, when I was told
Like dust to dust' upon a bier,
That came my throbbing heart to sear;
I met thee-on my marble brow
There wrinkled no fierce ire ;
I touched thee-thou was changed, and now,
I smiled my pride did that require ;
THE MARTYRED MISSIONARY.
I saw, upon a foreign shore,
A prisoner in his cell;
His hands were not imbrued in gore,
What was his crime, save crime it be
Free to adore the God of heaven
To know the Saviour-Christ
His native land he left in youth
No charm could tempt his stay; With the words of everlasting truth
He hied him on his way
To the darkest spot of earth's domain-