Though young so wise, though meek so resolute) Might carry to the clouds, and to the stars, Yea, to celestial choirs, GRACE DARLING'S name." By a less-known writer, but one who was evidently a keen admirer of Grace, the following lines were also written:-- "'Over the wave, the stormy wave, Hasten, dear father, with me, The crew to save from the wat'ry grave, Deep in the merciless sea. Hear ye the shriek, the piercing shriek, Hear ye the cry of despair? With courage quick the wreck we'll seek, Danger united we'll dare. "'Out with the boat, the gallant boat; Not a moment to be lost. See! she's afloat, proudly afloat, And high on the waves we're tossed; Mother, adieu, a short adieu; Your prayers will rise to heaven. Father, to you--your child and you-- Power to save is given. "'I have no fear, no maiden fear; My heart is firm to the deed, I shed no tear, no coward tear; I've strength in the time of need. Heard ye the crash, the horrid crash? Their mast over the side is gone; Yet on we dash, 'mid lightning flash, Safe, through the pelting storm. "'The wreck we near, the wreck we near; Our bonny boat seems to fly; List to the cheer--their welcome cheer-- They know that succour is nigh.' And on that night, that dreadful night, The father and daughter brave, With strengthened might they both unite, And many dear lives they save. "Hail to the maid, the fearless maid, The maid of matchless worth, She'll e'er abide the cherished pride Of the land that gave her birth. They send her gold, her name high uphold, Honour and praise to impart; But, with true regard, the _loved reward Is the joy of her own brave heart_." Very beautiful are the following lines, which appeared in the "Newcastle Chronicle," and were written by Miss Eleanor Louise Montague:-- "Sweet spirit of the merciful, That smoothed the watery way! From the true throb of heart to heart Thou wilt not turn away; Oh! softly, wilt thou lend thine ear, When 'mid the tempest's war, The feeble voice of woman's praise Shall greet thee from afar. "I see thee in thy rock-built home, Swept by the dashing seas, I hear thy voice as on that night It stilled the rushing breeze. When stirred by heavenly visions, Thou didst burst the bonds of sleep, To take thy place in peril's path-- The angel of the deep! "Oh, where was then the tender form That quailed to every blast! Like the bread-gift to the famished, 'Upon the waters cast!' True to thy woman's nature still, While scorning woman's fears, Oh, strongest in her gentleness, And mightiest in her tears!