And then began the sailors' jests: "What thing is that, I say?" "A 'long-shore meeting-house adrift A standing down the bay?" "So shot your guns and point them straight: Before this day goes by, We'll try of what her metal's made." "Remember, boys, this flag of ours Has seldom left its place; And where it falls, the deck it strikes "I ask but this; or sink or swim, My last sight upon earth may be Her ports were closed; from stem to stern We wondered, questioned, strained our eyes, She reached our range. Our broadside rang; Our heavy pivots roared; And shot and shell, a fire of hell, Against her side we poured. God's mercy! from her sloping roof As hail bounds from a cottage-thatch, Or when against her dusky hull On, on, with fast increasing speed, She heeded not; no guns she fired; Alas! our beautiful, keen bow, Alas! alas! my Cumberland, That ne'er knew grief before, To be so gored, to feel so deep The tusk of that sea-boar! Once more she backward drew apace; The dead and dying round us lay, We felt our vessel settling fast; We knew our time was brief: "Ho! man the pumps!" But they who worked And fought not, wept with grief. From captain down to powder-boy, No hand was idle then : Two soldiers, but by chance aboard, Fought on like sailor men. And when a gun's crew lost a hand, Some bold marine stepped out, And jerked his braided jacket off, And hauled the gun about. Our forward magazine was drowned, And up from the sick-bay Crawled out the wounded, red with blood, And round us gasping lay;— Yes, cheering, calling us by name, Struggling with failing breath With decks afloat and powder gone, So sponges, rammers, and handspikes— We placed within their proper racks, "Up to the spar deck! save yourselves!" We turned: we did not like to go; Some swore, some groaned with pain. We reached the deck. There Randall stood: "Another turn, men-so!" Calmly he aimed his pivot gun : "Now, Tenny, let her go!" It did our sore hearts good to hear Brave Randall leaped upon the gun, "Well done! well aimed! I saw that shell It was our last, our deadliest shot; The poor ship staggered, lurched to port, Down, down, as headlong through the waves HE breeze had been fresh all day, with more sea than usual, and they had made great progress. At sunset they had stood again to the west, and were ploughing the waves at a rapid rate, the Pinta keeping the head, from her superior sailing. The greatest animation prevailed throughout the ships: not an eye was closed that night. As the evening darkened, Columbus took his station on the top of the castle or cabin on a high poop of his vessel, ranging his eye along the dusky horizon, and maintaining an intense and unremitting watch. About ten o'clock, he thought he beheld a light glimmering at a great distance. Fearing his eager hopes might deceive him, he called to Pedro Gutierrez, gentleman of the king's bedchamber, and inquired whether he saw such a light; the latter replied in the affirmative. Doubtful whether it might not yet be some delusion of the fancy, Columbus called Rodrigo Sanchez, of Segovia, and made the same inquiry. By the time the latter had ascended the round-house, the light had disappeared. They saw it once or twice afterwards in sudden and passing gleams, as if it were a torch in the bark of a fisherman, rising and sinking with the waves, or in the hand of some person on shore, borne up and down as he walked from house to house. So transient and uncertain were these gleams, that few attached any importance to them; Columbus, however, considered them as certain signs of land, and, moreover, that the land was inhabited. They continued their course until in the morning. when a gun from the Pinta gave the joyful signal of land. It was first descried by a mariner named Rodrigo de Triana; but the reward was afterwards adjudged to the admiral for having previously perceived the light. The land was now clearly seen about two leagues distant; whereupon they took in sail, and lay to, waiting impatiently for the dawn. The thoughts and feelings of Columbus in this little space of time must have been tumultuous and intense. At length, in spite of every difficulty and danger, he had accomplished his object. The great mystery of the ocean was revealed; his theory, which had been the scoff of sages, was triumphantly established; he had secured to himself a glory durable as the world itself. It is difficult to conceive the feelings of such a man at such a moment, or the conjectures which must have thronged upon his mind, as to the land before him, covered with darkness. That it was fruitful was evident from the vegetables which floated from its shores. He thought, too, that he perceived the fragrance of aromatic groves. The moving light he had beheld proved it the residence of man. But what were its inhabitants? Were they like those of the other parts of the globe; or were they some strange and monstrous race, such as the imagination was prone in those times to give to all remote and unknown regions? Had he come upon some wild island far in the Indian Sea; or was this the famed Cipango itself, the object of his golden fancies? A thousand speculations of the kind must have swarmed upon him, as, with his anxious crews, he waited for the night to pass away, wondering whether the morning light would reveal a savage wilderness, or dawn upon spicy groves, and glittering fanes, and gilded cities, and all the : plendor of oriental civilization. WASHINGTON IRVING. THE GREAT DISCOVERY. TEER on, bold sailor; wit may mock thy soul that sees the land, And hopeless, at the helm, may droop the weak and weary hand; Yea, trust the guiding God, and go along the floating graves; Though hid till now, yet now behold the new world o'er the seas! With genius, nature stands in solemn union still, And ever what the one foretells, the other shall fulfill. Frederic SCHILLER. SHERIDAN'S RIDE. P from the South at break of day, But there is a road from Winchester town, Under his spurning feet, the road Yet ever, ever to the west, for there the coast must The first that the General saw were the groups lie, Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops; And dim it dawns, and glimmery dawns, before thy What was done-what to do-a glance told him both, reason's eye; And striking his spurs, with a terrible oath, He dashed down the line, 'mid a storm of huzzas, And the wave of retreat checked its course there, be cause The sight of the master compelled it to pause. Hurrah, hurrah for Sheridan ! Hurrah, hurrah for horse and man! And when their statues are placed on high, NORVAL. Y name is Norval: on the Grampian hill And keep his only son, myself, at home. We fought and conquered. Ere a sword was drawn I left my father's house, and took with me A chosen servant to conduct my steps- JOHN HOME. "I will save them yet," he cried. "Bessie Lee shall | To yield to that foe meant worse than death; For her sake." And then he halted in the shelter of It was one day more of smoke and roar, From his buckskin shirt he took, with weak hands a little book; And he tore a blank leaf from it. "shall be my will." "This," said he And her mind was wandering. She lay on the ground, in her Scottish plaid, "When my father comes hame frae the pleugh," she "Oh! then please wauken me." Good-by, Bess! God bless you always." Then he She slept like a child on her father's floor, felt the warm tears start. Then he made his message fast, love's first letter, and its last; In the flecking of woodbine-shade, And hopelessly waiting for death; To his saddle-bow he tied it, while his lips were white It was smoke and roar and powder-stench, Then he leaned down in the saddle, and clutched I sank to sleep; and I had my dream Just at dusk, a horse of brown, flecked with foam, came And wall and garden ;-but one wild scream Bessie's door. But her rider seemed asleep. Ah, his slumber was so All over her face; and she caught my hand deep Bessie's voice could never wake him, if she called forever more. And drew me near as she spoke : "The Hielanders! O, dinna ye hear You will hear the story told by the young and by the The McGregor's-O, I ken it weel; In the settlement at Crawford's, of the night when Of the sharp and bloody fight; how the chief fell, and Of the panic-stricken warriors. Then they speak It's the grandest o' them a' ! We're saved! we're saved!" she cried; Along the battery-line her cry Had fallen among the men, In an awed and reverent way, as men utter "Let us And they started back ;-they were there to die; pray," As we speak the name of heroes, thinking how they lived and died; So his memory is kept green, while his face and heaven between Grow the flowers Bessie planted, ere they laid her by his side. THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW. THAT last day in Lucknow fort! We knew that it was the last; But was life so near them, then? Far off, and the far-off roar, Were all; and the colonel shook his head, But Jessie said, "The slogan's done; But winna ye hear it noo? The Campbells are comin'! It's no a dreari We heard the roar and the rattle afar, So the men plied their work of hopeless wa |