And in that town a Dog was found,

As many dogs there be,

Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree.

This Dog and Man at first were friends;
But when a pique began,

The Dog, to gain some private ends,
Went mad and bit the Man.

Around from all the neighbouring streets
The wond'ring neighbours ran,
And swore the Dog had lost his wits,
To bite so good a Man.

The wound it seem'd both sore and sad

To every Christian eye;

And while they swore the Dog was mad,
They swore the Man would die.

O, BRIGNALL banks are wild and fair,
And Greta woods are green,
And you may gather garlands there
Would grace a summer queen.
And as I rode by Dalton Hall
Beneath the turrets high,

A Maiden on the castle wall

Was singing merrily,

O. GOLDSMITH.

'O, Brignall banks are fresh and fair,
And Greta woods are green;
I'd rather rove with Edmund there,
Than reign our English queen.'

If, Maiden, thou wouldst wend with me,

To leave both tower and town,

Thou first must guess what life lead we,
That dwell by dale and down?

And if thou canst that riddle read,
As read full well you may,
Then to the greenwood shalt thou speed
As blithe as Queen of May.'

Yet sung she, 'Brignall banks are fair,
And Greta woods are green;

I'd rather rove with Edmund there

Than reign our English queen.'

A Ranger, lady, winds his horn,
And 'tis at peep of light;

His blast is heard at merry morn,
And mine at dead of night.'

Yet sung she, Brignall banks are fair,
And Greta woods are gay;

I would I were with Edmund there,
To reign his Queen of May!

"With burnish'd brand and musketoon,
So gallantly you come,

I read you for a bold Dragoon

That lists the tuck of drum.'

-'I list no more the tuck of drum,
No more the trumpet hear;

But when the beetle sounds his hum,
My comrades take the spear.
And O! though Brignall banks be fair
And Greta woods be gay,

Yet mickle must the maiden dare,
Would reign my Queen of May!

'Maiden! a nameless life I lead,
A nameless death I'll die!

The fiend, whose lantern lights the mead
Were better mate than I !

And when I'm with my comrades met
Beneath the greenwood bough,
What once we were we all forget,
Nor think what we are now.'

CHORUS

Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair,
And Greta woods are green,
And you may gather garlands there

Would grace a summer queen.

SIR W. SCOTT.

BATTLE OF THE BALTIC

OF Nelson and the North,

Sing the glorious day's renown,
When to battle fierce came forth
All the might of Denmark's crown,

And her arms along the deep proudly shone ;

By each gun the lighted brand,

In a bold determined hand,

And the Prince of all the land
Led them on.-

Like leviathans afloat,

Lay their bulwarks on the brine;
While the sign of battle flew

On the lofty British line :

It was ten of April morn by the chime:
As they drifted on their path,

There was silence deep as death;
And the boldest held his breath
For a time.

But the might of England flush'd
To anticipate the scene;

And her van the fleeter rush'd

O'er the deadly space between.

'Hearts of oak!' our captains cried, when each gun

From its adamantine lips

Spread a death-shade round the ships,

Like the hurricane eclipse

Of the sun.

Again! again! again!

And the havoc did not slack,

Till a feeble cheer the Dane

To our cheering sent us back ;

Their shots along the deep slowly boom :

Then ceased-and all is wail,

As they strike the shatter'd sail;
Or, in conflagration pale,

Light the gloom.