THOMAS CAMPBELL

So peace instead of death let us bring But yield, proud foe, thy fleet, With the crews, at England's feet, And make submission meet To our King.' . . .

Now joy, old England, raise !

For the tidings of thy might,

By the festal cities' blaze,

Whilst 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 !

��THOMAS MOORE

��$82. The Toting May Moon

'""THE young May moon is beaming, love,

• The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love;

How sweet to rove

Through Morna's grove, When the drowsy world is dreaming, love ! Then awake ! the heavens look bright, my dear, 'Tis never too late for delight, my dear;

And the best of all ways

To lengthen our days Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!

Now all the world is sleeping, love, But the Sage, his star-watch keeping, love,

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