"That with such force, _as_ it left me," &c. For _as_, we would now use _that_. _Clifts of the shore_. Like clefts, broken openings in the shore.] * * * * * RULE BRITANNIA. When Britain first, at Heaven's command, Arose from out the azure main, This was the charter of the land, And guardian angels sung this strain: Rule, Britannia, rule the waves, Britons never will be slaves! The nations, not so blessed as thee, Must in their turn to tyrants fall; While thou shalt flourish great and free, The dread and envy of them all. Still more majestic shalt thou rise, More dreadful from each foreign stroke; As the loud blast that tears the skies, Serves but to root thy native oak. Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame: All their attempts to bend thee down Will but arouse thy generous flame; But work their woe and thy renown. To thee belongs the rural reign; Thy cities shall with commerce shine; All thine shall be the subject main: And every shore it circles thine. The Muses, still with freedom found, Shall to thy happy coast repair: Blessed isle! with matchless beauty crowned, And manly hearts to guard the fair: Rule, Britannia, rule the waves, Britons never will be slaves! THOMSON. [Notes: _James Thomson_, born 1700, died 1748. He was educated for the Scotch ministry, but came to London, and commenced his career as a poet by the series of poems called the 'Seasons,' descriptive of scenes in nature. _The Muses, i.e._, the Sciences and Arts, which flourish best where there are free institutions.] * * * * * WATERLOO. There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her Beauty and her Chivalry; and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage-bell;-- But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell! Did ye not hear it?--No; 'twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street: On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet-- But hark!--That heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! Arm! arm! it is--it is--the cannon's opening roar!