Weigh the vessel up,
Once dreaded by our foes!
And mingle with our cup
The tear that England owes.
Her timbers yet are sound,
And she may float again
Full charged with England's thunder,
And plow the distant main:
But Kempenfelt is gone,
His victories are o'er;
And he and his eight hundred
Shall plow the wave no more.
William Cowper.
CALM ON THE LISTENING EAR OF NIGHT.
Calm on the listening ear of night
Come heaven's melodious strains,
Where wild Judea stretches far
Her silver-mantled plains.
Celestial choirs from courts above
Shed sacred glories there;
And angels, with their sparkling lyres,
Make music on the air.
The answering hills of Palestine
Send back the glad reply;
And greet, from all their holy heights,
The Dayspring from on high.