But brighter still that light shall gleam, With one last flash o’er land and stream, And then shall vanish like a dream At daylight passing wearily. The coming sun shall light no more Yon bridge that spans from shore to shore, And dark Dundee bereft shall cower Beneath her smoky canopy. The horror deepens. Who can save Those rushing to a watery grave? Wave dashes wildly over wave, And leaps in dreadful rivalry. None, none shall part where many meet; The sand shall be their winding sheet; No churchyard turf shall veil their feet In their untimely sepulchre. CHEVY CHASE (J. F. BAIRD.) ―――― SECOND PRIZE. On Tay the summer sun sinks low, Soaring above the broad Firth’s flow; A thread athwart yon ruddy glow, The wondrous bridge winds airily. But halcyon days have taken flight, Wild howls the storm this winter’s night, And ’gainst that daring fabric light The tempest rages furiously. Homeward they wend from town and glade, Husband and wife, and youth and maid, For that dread race of death arrayed, An all-unconscious company. Forth speeds the train to ruin driven―― Is there no help, O pitying Heaven? No warning voice in mercy given Of the impending destiny? The signal beckons――on they go; Now o’er the bridge the lamp-lights glow, Where, in the shuddering depth below, The foam-flecked Firth roars hungrily. With straining eyes the watchers run, Longing to mark the passage done. In vain: the blast his prey has won, And on it swoops relentlessly. That fiery flash the signal gave; Down crashing through the maddened wave, Both bridge and freight have found a grave, Whelmed in one dire catastrophe. With questioning eyes the mourners meet, Blanched lips the fearful tale repeat; The wild wave rolling at their feet Mocks at their helpless misery. COURTHOPE (L. BECK.) ――――:o:―――― 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! * * * * * 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.