IX.

And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea, But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty-three. Ship after ship, the whole night long, their high-built galleons came, Ship after ship, the whole night long, with her battle thunder and flame;

Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead and her shame.

For some were sunk and many were shattered, and so could fight us

no more

God of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before?

For he said, "Fight on! fight on!"

Tho' his vessel was all but a wreck;

And it chanced that, when half of the short summer night was gone,

With a grisly wound to be drest he had left the deck,

But a bullet struck him that was dressing it suddenly dead,

And himself he was wounded again in the side and the head,
And he said, "Fight on! fight on!"

XI.

And the night went down, and the sun smiled out far over the sum

mer sea,

And the Spanish fleet with broken sides lay round us all in a ring; But they dared not touch us again, for they feared that we still could sting,

So they watched what the end would be.

And we had not fought them in vain,

But in perilous plight were we,

Seeing forty of our poor hundred were slain,

And half of the rest of us maimed for life

In the crash of the cannonades and the desperate strife;

And the sick men down in the hold were most of them stark and cold,

And the pikes were all broken or bent, and the powder was all of it

spent ;

And the masts and the rigging were lying over the side;

But Sir Richard cried in his English pride,

"We have fought such a fight for a day and a night

As may never be fought again!

We have won great glory, my men!

And a day less or more

At sea or ashore,

We die-does it matter when?

Sink me the ship, Master Gunner - sink her, split her in twain ! Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands of Spain!"

XII.

And the gunner said "Ay, ay," but the seamer made reply:"We have children, we have wives,

And the Lord hath spared our lives.

We will make the Spaniard promise, if we yield, to let us go;
We shall live to fight again and to strike another blow."
And the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to the foe.

XIII.

And the stately Spanish men to their flagship bore him then,
Where they laid him by the mast, old Sir Richard caught at last,
And they praised him to his face with their courtly foreign grace;
But he rose upon their decks, and he cried:

"I have fought for Queen and Faith like a valiant man and true;
I have only done my duty as a man is bound to do:
With a joyful spirit I Sir Richard Grenville die!"
And he fell upon their decks, and he died.

XIV.

And they stared at the dead that had been so valiant and true,
And had holden the power and glory of Spain so cheap
That he dared her with one little ship and his English few;
Was he devil or man? He was devil for aught they knew,
But they sank his body with honor down into the deep,
And they manned the "Revenge" with a swarthier alien crew,
And away she sailed with her loss and longed for her own;
When a wind from the lands they had ruined awoke from sleep,
And the water began to heave and the weather to moan,
And or ever that evening ended a great gale blew,

And a wave like the wave that is raised by an earthquake grew,
Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts and their
flags,

And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot-shattered navy of

Spain,

And the little "Revenge" herself went down by the island crags To be lost evermore in the main.

THE LIE.

BY SIR WALTER RALEIGH.

[SIR WALTER RALEIGH was born near Sidmouth, Devonshire, 1552; entered Oriel College, Oxford; left it to volunteer for the Huguenot cause in France, and fought at Jarnac and Moncontour; was later in various expeditions, and became noted as a dashing adventurer; was patronized by Leicester, and became a favorite of Elizabeth and high in office; 1584-1587 fitted out three expeditions to colonize America, and in 1587 colonized a large grant in Ireland; in 1592 was sent to the Tower for a love affair; in 1595 explored the northeastern coast of South America, and in 1596 published "The Discovery of Guiana"; in 1596 helped win the great naval action at Cadiz; in 1597 stormed Fayal; 1600-1603 was governor of Jersey; after James's accession was imprisoned in the Tower for conspiracy (1603-1616); released to go on an exploring expedition, he violated his parole by making war on the Spanish settlements, and was beheaded October 29, 1618. While in the Tower he wrote one volume of a "History of the World" (1614), suppressed by James; "The Prerogative of Parliaments" (1615); "The Cabinet Council" (1658); and "a Discourse of War."]

Go, SOUL, the body's guest,

Upon a thankless arrant:
Fear not to touch the best;

The truth shall be thy warrant:

Go, since I needs must die,

And give the world the lie.

Say to the court, it glows

And shines like rotten wood;
Say to the church, it shows

What's good, and doth no good:

If court and church reply,

Then give them both the lie.

Tell potentates, they live
Acting by others' action;
Not loved unless they give,
Not strong but by a faction:
If potentates reply,
Give potentates the lie.

Tell men of high condition,

That manage the estate,
Their purpose is ambition,
Their practice only hate:
And if they once reply,
Then give them all the lie.

Tell them that brave it most,
They beg for more by spending,
Who, in their greatest cost,

Seek nothing but commending:
And if they make reply,
Then give them all the lie.

Tell zeal it wants devotion;
Tell love it is but lust;
Tell time it is but motion;
Tell flesh it is but dust:
And wish them not reply,
For thou must give the lie.

Tell age it daily wasteth;

Tell honor how it alters;
Tell beauty how she blasteth;
Tell favor how it falters:
And as they shall reply,
Give every one the lie.

Tell wit how much it wrangles

In tickle points of niceness; Tell wisdom she entangles

Herself in over-wiseness: And when they do reply, Straight give them both the lie.

Tell physic of her boldness;
Tell skill it is pretension;

Tell charity of coldness;

Tell law it is contention:

And as they do reply,

So give them still the lie.

Tell fortune of her blindness

Tell nature of decay;

Tell friendship of unkindness;

Tell justice of delay:

And if they will reply,

Then give them all the lie.

Tell arts they have no soundness,

But vary by esteeming;

Tell schools they want profoundness,

And stand too much on seeming:

If arts and schools reply,
Give arts and schools the lie.

Tell faith it's fled the city;

Tell how the country erreth;
Tell manhood shakes off pity;
Tell virtue least preferreth:
And if they do reply,
Spare not to give the lie.

So when thou hast, as I

Commanded thee, done blabbing,-
Although to give the lie

Deserves no less than stabbing,—
Stab at thee he that will,

No stab the soul can kill.

THE BATTLE OF IVRY, 1590.

BY THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY.

[THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY: An English historian and essayist; born October 25, 1800; son of a noted philanthropist and a Quaker lady; died at London, December 28, 1859. He was educated at Trinity College, Cambridge, and called to the bar, but took to writing for the periodicals and to politics; became famous for historical essays, was a warm advocate of Parliamentary Reform, and was elected to Parliament in 1830. In 1834 he was made a member of the Supreme Legislative Council for India, residing there till 1838, and making the working draft of the present Indian Penal Code. He was Secretary of War in 1839. The first two volumes of his "History of England" were published in December, 1848. His fame rests even more on his historical essays, his unsurpassed speeches, and his "Lays of Ancient Rome."]

Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are!
And glory to our sovereign liege, King Henry of Navarre !
Now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance,

Through thy cornfields green, and sunny vines, O pleasant land of
France!

And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters,
Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters.
As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy,

For cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy.
Hurrah! hurrah! a single field hath turned the chance of war;
Hurrah! hurrah! for Ivry, and Henry of Navarre.