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"--
Then Denmark bless'd our chief,
That he gave her wounds repose;
And the sounds of joy and grief
From her people wildly rose,
As Death withdrew his shades from the day.
While the sun look'd smiling bright
O'er a wild and woeful sight,
Where the fires of funeral light
Died away.
Now joy, old England, raise!
For the tidings of thy might,
By the festal cities' blaze,
While the wine-cup shines in light;
And yet amidst that joy and uproar,
Let us think of them that sleep,
Full many a fathom deep,
By thy wild and stormy steep,
Elsinore!
Brave hearts! to Britain's pride
Once so faithful and so true,
On the deck of fame that died,--
With the gallant good Riou,
Soft sigh the winds of heaven o'er their grave!
While the hollow mournful rolls,
And the mermaid's song condoles,
Singing glory to the souls
Of the brave!


THE GRAVE SPOILERS.
BY HERCULES ELLIS.

They dragged our heroes from the graves,
In which their honoured dust was lying;
They dragged them forth--base, coward slaves
And hung their bones on gibbets flying.


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