some eternal day
And of the old time talk
With sailors old, who, on that coast,
Welcome the homeward bound,
Where many a gallant soul we've lost
And Franklin will be found.

Where amidst London's roar and moil
That cross of peace upstands,
Like Martyr with his heavenward smile,
And flame-lit, lifted hands,
There lies the dark and moulder'd dust;
But that magnanimous
And manly Seaman's soul, I trust,
Lives on in some of us.

CAMPERDOWN.

(October 11, 1797.)

BY ALFRED H. MILES.

We were lying calm and peaceful as an infant lies asleep,
Rocked in the mighty cradle of the ever-restless deep,
Or like a lion resting ere he rises to the fray,
With eyes half closed in slumber and half open for the prey.
We had waited long, and restless was the spirit of the fleet,
For the long-expected conquest and the long-delayed defeat,
When, uprose the mists of morning, as a curtain rolls away,
For the high heroic action of some old chivalric play.
And athwart the sea to starboard waved the colours high and free
Of the famous fighting squadron that usurped the loyal sea.

Quick the signal came for action, quick replied we with a cheer,
For the friends at home behind us, and the foes before so near;
Three times three the cheering sounded, and 'mid deafening hurrahs
We sprang into position--five hundred lusty tars.
And the cannons joined our shouting with a burly, booming cheer
That aroused the hero's action, and awoke the coward's fear;
And the lightning and the thunder gleamed and pealed athwart the
scene,
Till the noontide mist was greater than the morning mist had been,
And the foeman and the stranger and the brother and the friend
Were mingled in one seething mass the battle's end to end.

With broken spars and splintered bulks the decks were strewn anon,
While the rigging, torn and tangled, hung the shattered yards upon;
Like a cataract of fire outpoured the steady cannonade,
Till the strongest almost wavered and the bravest were dismayed.
Like an endless swarm of locusts sprang they up our vessel's side,
And scaled her burning bulwarks or fell backward in the tide,
'Twas a fearful day of carnage, such as none had known before,
In the fiercest naval battles of those gallant days of yore.

We had battled all the morning, 'mid the never-ceasing hail
Of grape and spark and splinter, of cable shred, and