My country, I love thee!-and oh! may'st thou have The last throb of my heart, ere 'tis cold in the grave; May'st thou yield me that grave, in thine own daisied earth,

And my ashes repose in the land of my birth! ELIZA COOK.

THE ENGLISHMAN.

THERE'S a land that bears a world-known name,
Though it is but a little spot;

I say 'tis the first on the scroll of fame,
And who shall aver it is not?

Of the deathless ones who shine and live
In arms, in arts, or song,

The brightest the whole wide world can give
To that little land belong.

"Tis the star of earth, deny it who can,
The island-home of an Englishman.

There's a flag that waves o'er every sea,

No matter when or where;

And to treat that flag as aught but the free
Is more than the strongest dare.

For the lion-spirits that tread the deck

Have carried the palm of the brave;

And that flag MAY sink with a shot-torn wreck,
But never float over a slave!

Its honour is stainless, deny it who can,
And this is the flag of an Englishman.

There's a heart that leaps with burning glow,
The wrong'd and the weak to defend;
And strikes as soon for a trampled foe,
As it does for a soul-bound friend.

It nurtures a deep and honest love,
The passions of faith and pride,
And yearns, with the fondness of a dove,
To the light of its own fire-side.
'Tis a rich, rough gem, deny it who can,
And this is the heart of an Englishman.

The Briton may traverse the pole or the zone,
And boldly claim his right;

For he calls such a vast domain his own,
That the sun never sets on his might.
Let the haughty stranger seek to know
The place of his home and birth,
And a flush will pour from cheek to brow
While he tells his native earth;

For a glorious charter, deny it who can,
Is breathed in the words, "I'm an Englishman."
ELIZA COOK.

OUR SAILORS AND OUR SHIPS.

How dashingly, in sun and light, the frigate makes her way,

Her white wings spreading full and bright beneath the glancing ray;

The gale may wake, but she will take whatever wind may come,

Fit car to bear the ocean-god upon his crystal home. She cleaves the tide with might and pride, like war-horse freed from rein;

She treats the wave like abject slave,-the empress of the main.

All, all shall mark the gallant bark, their hearts upon their lips,

And cry, "Old England, who shall match thy sailors and thy ships!"

Stout forms, strong arms, and dauntless spirits, dwell upon the deck;

True to their cause in calm or storm, in battle or in wreck.

No foe will meet a coward hand, faint heart, or quailing eye:

They only know to fall or stand, to live the brave or die.

The flag, that carries round the world a Nelson's victor name,

Must never shield a dastard knave, or strike in craven shame.

Let triumph scan her blazing page, no record shall

eclipse

The glory of Old England's cross, her sailors and her ships.

The tempest's breath sweeps o'er the sea with howlings of despair,

Death walks upon the waters, but the tar must face and bear.

The bullets hiss, the broadside pours, 'mid sulphur, blood, and smoke,

And prove a British crew and craft alike are hearts

of oak.

Oh! ye who live 'mid fruit and flowers-the peaceful, safe, and free,

Yield up a prayer for those who dare the perils of the sea.

"God and our right!" these are the words e'er first upon our lips;

But next shall be, "Old England's flag, our sailors and our ships!"

ELIZA COOK.

WHAT CONSTITUTES A STATE?

WHAT constitutes a state?

Not high-rais'd battlement and labour'd mound, Thick wall or moated gate;

Not cities proud, with spires and turrets crown'd; Not bays and broad-arm'd ports,

Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride; Not starr'd and spangled courts,

Where low-bred baseness wafts perfume to pride. No-men, high-minded men,

With powers as far above dull brutes endu'd, In forest, brake, or den,

As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude,Men, who their duties know,

Who know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain,

Prevent the long-aim'd blow,

And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain. These constitute a state,

And sovereign Law, that state's collected will, O'er thrones and globes elate.

SIR W. JONES.

PEACE AND WAR.

A VISION OF WAR.

FROM THE OPENING OF THE SEVEN SEALS.

A Poem.

And there went out another horse that was red: and power was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another: and there was given unto him a great sword.-REV. vi. 4.

THE Lamb of God stood forth,
Again to loose heaven's direful mysteries,
Glowing afresh with majesty and power
Irradiant, and dilating terribly

With stern and solemn justice unappeased,
His bright face thrilling every cowering spirit
With awe unutterable. Silent and calm,
He brake the SECOND SEAL, and thunders ran,
Like marshall'd chariots, to and fro through heaven;
And then was heard the iron trampelling

Of armed hoofs, the clang of brand with brand.
The murderous battle shock, and rugged shout
Of charging thousands, mingled with the clash
Of cymbal, and the woeful roll of drum,
And horrid booming of artillery,

Shaking the firm-set earth, and filling all
The air with tremors. Then a loud voice cried,
From the deep centre of all glory, "Come, and see!"