When down their bows they threw,
And forth their bilboes drew,

And on the French they flew,

Not one was tardy;

Arms were from shoulders sent,
Scalps to the teeth were rent,
Down the French peasants went,
Our men were hardy.

This while our noble King,
His broad sword brandishing,
Down the French host did ding,

As to o'erwhelm it;

And many a deep wound lent,
His arms with blood besprent,
And many a cruel dent
Bruised his helmet.

Gloucester, that duke so good,
Next of the royal blood,

When Banners

are

Waving

The Battle of Blenheim

It was a summer's evening,

Old Kaspar's work was done,
And he before his cottage door

Was sitting in the sun;

And by him sported on the green
His little grandchild Wilhelmine.

She saw her brother Peterkin

Roll something large and round,
Which he, beside the rivulet,

In playing there, had found.

He came to ask what he had found,

That was so large, and smooth, and round.

Old Kaspar took it from the boy,

Who stood expectant by;

And then the old man shook his head,
And, with a natural sigh,

""Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he,
"Who fell in the great victory!"

"I find them in the garden,

For there's many here about;
And often when I go to plough,

The ploughshare turns them out;
For many thousand men," said he,
"Were slain in that great victory!"

1

"Now tell us what 'twas all about,"

Young Peterkin he cries;

And little Wilhelmine looks up

With wonder-waiting eyes; "Now tell us all about the war,

And what they kill each other for."

"It was the English," Kaspar cried,
Who put the French to rout;
But what they killed each other for
I could not well make out.
But everybody said," quoth he,
"That 'twas a famous victory!

"My father lived at Blenheim then,

Yon little stream hard by:

They burned his dwelling to the ground,
And he was forced to fly;

So with his wife and child he fled,

Nor had he where to rest his head.

"With fire and sword the country round Was wasted far and wide;

And many a childing mother then

And new-born baby died.

But things like that, you know, must be

At every famous victory.

"They say it was a shocking sight

After the field was won;

When Banners

are

Waving

When Banners

are

Waving

For many thousand bodies here

Lay rotting in the sun.

But things like that, you know, must be
After a famous victory.

"Great praise the Duke of Marlborough won,

And our good Prince Eugene."

"Why, 'twas a very wicked thing!"

66

Said little Wilhelmine.

Nay, nay, my little girl," quoth he, "It was a famous victory!

"And everybody praised the Duke

Who this great fight did win."
"But what good came of it at last?"
Quoth little Peterkin.

66 Why that I cannot tell," said he,
"But 'twas a famous victory."

ROBERT SOUTHEY.

The Armada: A Fragment

Attend, all ye who list to hear our noble England's praise;

I sing of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in ancient days,

When that great fleet invincible against her bore,

in vain

The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts

in Spain.