With his white hair unbonnetted the stout old sheriff

comes;

Behind him march the halberdiers, before him sound the

drums;

His yeomen, round the market-cross, make clear an ample

врасе,

For there behoves him to set up the standard of her Grace. And haughtily the trumpets peal, and gaily dance the

bells,

As slow upon the labouring wind the royal blazon swells. Look how the lion of the sea lifts up his ancient crown, And underneath his deadly paw treads the gay lilies down. So stalked he when he turned to flight, on that famed Picard field,

Bohemia's plume, and Genoa's bow, and Caesar's eagle shield:

So glared he when at Agincourt in wrath he turned to bay, And crushed and torn beneath his claws the princely hunters lay.

Ho! strike the flag-staff deep, sir knight: ho! scatter flowers, fair maids:

Ho! gunners fire a loud salute: ho! gallants, draw your blades:

Thou sun, shine on her joyously-ye breezes waft her

wide;

Our Glorious SEMPER EADEM-the banner of our pride. The freshening breeze of eve unfurled that banner's

massy fold,

The parting gleam of sunshine kissed that haughty scroll of gold;

Night sank upon the dusky beach, and on the purple sea,Such night in England ne'er had been, nor e'er again

shall be.

From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, from Lynn to Milford Bay,

That time of slumber was as bright and busy as the day;

For swift to east and swift to west the warning radiance

spread;

High on St. Michael's Mount it shone-it shone on Beachy

Head.

Far on the deep the Spaniard saw, along each southern

shire,

Cape beyond cape, in endless range, those twinkling points of fire;

The fisher left his skiff to rock on Tamar's glittering

waves,

The rugged miners poured to war from Mendip's sunless

caves.

O'er Longleat's towers, o'er Cranbourne's oaks, the fiery herald flew ;

He roused the shepherds of Stonehenge, the rangers of Beaulieu.

Right sharp and quick the bells all night rang out from Bristol town,

And ere the day three hundred horse had met on Clifton

Down;

The sentinel on Whitehall Gate looked forth into the

night,

And saw o'erhanging Richmond Hill the streak of blood

red light.

Then bugle's note and cannon's roar the death-like silence broke,

And with one start, and with one cry, the royal city woke. At once on all her stately gates arose the answering fires; At once the wild alarum clashed from all her reeling spires;

From all the batteries of the Tower pealed loud the voice

of fear;

And all the thousand masts of Thames sent back a louder

cheer:

And from the farthest wards was heard the rush of hurry

ing feet,

And the broad streams of flags and pikes dashed down each roaring street:

And broader still became the blaze, and louder still the

din,

As fast from every village round the horse came spurring

in:

And eastward straight, from wild Blackheath, the warlike errand went,

And roused in many an ancient hall the gallant 'squires of Kent.

Southward from Surrey's pleasant hills flew those bright couriers forth;

High on bleak Hampstead's swarthy moor they started for the north;

And on, and on, without a pause, untired they bounded

still,

All night from tower to tower they sprang-they sprang from hill to hill,

Till the proud Peak unfurled the flag o'er Darwin's rocky dales

Till like volcanoes flared to heaven the stormy hills of Wales

Till twelve fair counties saw the blaze on Malvern's lonely

height

Till streamed in crimson on the wind the Wrekin's crest

of light

Till broad and fierce the star came forth on Ely's stately

fane,

And tower and hamlet rose in arms c'er all the boundless

plain;

Till Belvoir's lordly terraces the siga to Lincoln sent,

And Lincoln sped the message on o'er the wide vale of

Trent;

Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burned on Gaunt's em.

battled pile,

And the red glare on Skiddaw roused the burghers of Carlisle."

We

The poem has caught the fact as well as the graphic spirit of History. It is well known that the Victors of Waterloo received their first summons to battle in the ball-room. have a parallel in the incident that occurred to the Vice Admiral Drake and his officers, who were playing at bowls on the Plymouth Hoe, when one Fleming, a Scottish privateer, brought the intelligence that he had seen the Spanish fleet off the Lizard. The cool self-possession of Drake, at that exciting moment, was never surpassed. Amidst the sudden bustle and calls for the ships' boats, he insisted the game should be played out; there was plenty of time, he said, to win the game, and beat the Spaniards. The wind was blowing hard when the two admirals sailed out of Plymouth harbour, and on the following Saturday, July 20th, 1588, the Armada was seen a terrible spectacle approaching majestically the devoted British shores. It appeared a close crescent seven miles broad, while the ships appeared like floating castles. How the proud Spaniards must have vaunted as they beheld the English ships, like

a number of little cockle boats approaching them. Their castles were useless; Sir Henry Wotton compared the battle to a morris dance upon the waters. The lythe and active little Englishmen danced round the vast Spanish ships, and poured their fire upon them in all directions. Invincible after Invincible was crippled, and one ship, taken by Drake, was found to contain 55,000 ducats, which he instantly distributed amongst his sailors. On the 27th, in the dead of the night, Lord Howard sent a number of fire ships, filled with combustibles, pitch, sulphur, rosin, wild-fire, and entirely broke the order of the Spanish line. The ships, in their hurry to escape, ran against each other; some were burnt, sunk, destroyed; they were scattered all about; some far out, unprotected on the wide sea. God fought for Britain then, scattering her enemies by His fearful breath of storm and tempest. And how joyously would the heart of the nation beat upon the certain news of the dispersion of the foes! Not nearly the number of ships would have escaped, but for the parsimonious policy, by which the commanders were compelled to fall short in their work of conquest from want of powder.

"The defeat of the Armada was, of course,