Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed
      That saved she might be;
    And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave
      On the Lake of Galilee.

    And fast through the midnight dark and drear,
      Through the whistling sleet and snow,
    Like a sheeted ghost the vessel swept
      Toward the reef of Norman’s Woe.

    And ever the fitful gusts between
      A sound came from the land;
    It was the sound of the trampling surf
      On the rocks and the hard sea-sand.

    The breakers were right beneath her bows,
      She drifted a dreary wreck,
    And a whooping billow swept the crew
      Like icicles from her deck.

    She struck where the white and fleecy waves
      Looked soft as carded wool,
    But the cruel rocks they gored her side
      Like the horns of an angry bull.

    Her rattling shrouds all sheathed in ice,
      With the masts went by the board;
    Like a vessel of glass she stove and sank,—­
      Ho! ho! the breakers roared!

    At daybreak on the bleak sea-beach
      A fisherman stood aghast,
    To see the form of a maiden fair
      Lashed close to a drifting mast.

    The salt sea was frozen on her breast,
      The salt tears in her eyes;
    And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed,
      On the billows fall and rise.

    Such was the wreck of the Hesperus,
      In the midnight and the snow! 
    Christ save us all from a death like this,
      On the reef of Norman’s Woe!

HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.

 BANNOCKBURN.

 ROBERT BRUCE’S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY.

You can look down on the battle-field of Bannockburn from Stirling Castle, Scotland, near which stands a magnificent statue of Robert, the Bruce.  How often have I trodden over the old battle-field.  The monument of William Wallace, too, looms up on the Ochil Hills, not far away. (1759-96.)

    Scots, wha hae wi’ Wallace bled,
    Scots, wham Bruce has aften led;
    Welcome to your gory bed,
      Or to victorie.

    Now’s the day, and now’s the hour;
    See the front o’ battle lower;
    See approach proud Edward’s power—­
      Chains and slaverie!

    Wha will be a traitor knave? 
    Wha can fill a coward’s grave? 
    Wha sae base as be a slave? 
      Let him turn and flee!

    Wha for Scotland’s King and law
    Freedom’s sword will strongly draw,
    Freeman stand, or freeman fa’? 
      Let him follow me!

    By oppression’s woes and pains! 
    By your sons in servile chains! 
    We will drain our dearest veins,
      But they shall be free!

    Lay the proud usurpers low! 
    Tyrants fall in every foe! 
    Liberty’s in every blow! 
      Let us do, or die!