arms, exclaiming, "And you also, my dear child, you have done a good action." When they reached the cottages with their children, they entertained all the negroes with a plentiful repast, after which the latter returned to the woods, praying Heaven to 5 shower down every description of blessing on those good white people.

SAINT-PIERRE, JACQUES HENRI BERNARDIN, DE.

Which in his height of pride,
As Henry to deride,

His ransom to provide

Unto him sending;

Which he neglects the while,
As from a nation vile,
Yet with an angry smile,
Their fall portending;

And, turning to his men,
Quoth famous Henry then,
"Though they to one be ten,
Be not amazed;

Yet have we well begun,
Battles so bravely won
Evermore to the sun

By fame are raised.

'And for myself,' quoth he,
'This my full rest shall be,
England ne'er mourn for me,
Nor more esteem me.

Victor I will remain,

Or on this earth be slain,

Never shall she sustain

Loss to redeem me.

'Poyters and Cressy tell,

When most their pride did swell,
Under our swords they fell

No less our skill is

Than when our grandsire great,
Claiming the regal seat,
In many a warlike feat

Lopp'd the French lilies.'

The Duke of York so dread,
The eager vaward led;
With the main Henry sped,
Amongst his henchmen.

Excester had the rear,
A braver man not there,
And now preparing were

For the false Frenchmen,

And ready to be gone,
Armor on armor shone,

Drum unto drum did groan,

To hear was wonder;

That with the cries they make
The very earth did shake,

Trumpet to trumpet spake,
Thunder to thunder.

Well it thine age became,
O noble Erpingham,

Thou didst the signal frame

Unto the forces;

When from a meadow by,
Like a storm suddenly,
The English archery

Stuck the French horses.

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The Spanish yew so strong,
Arrows a cloth-yard long,
That like to serpents stong,
Piercing the wether;

None from his death now starts,
But playing manly parts,

And like true English hearts
Stuck close together.

When down their bows they threw,
And forth their bilbows drew,
And on the French they flew :
No man was tardy;

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

When now that noble king,
His broad sword brandishing,
Into the host did fling,

As to o'erwhelm it;

Who many a deep wound lent,
His arms with blood besprent,
And many a cruel dent

Bruised his helmet.

Gloster, that duke so good,
Next of the royal blood,
For famous England stood,
With his brave brother,

Clarence, in steel most bright,
That yet a maiden knight,
Yet in this furious fight

Scarce such another.

Warwick in blood did wade,
Oxford the foes invade,
And cruel slaughter made,
Still as they ran up;
Suffolk his axe did ply,
Beaumont and Willoughby
Bare them right doughtily,
Ferrers and Fanhope.

On happy Crispin day
Fought was this noble fray,
Which fame did not delay

To England to carry;
O when shall Englishmen,
With such acts fill a pen?
Or England breed again
Such a King Harry?

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MICHAEL DRAYTON.

COWPER'S TREATMENT OF HIS HARES.

In the year 1774, being much indisposed both in mind and body, incapable of diverting myself either with company or books, and yet in a condition that made some diversion necessary, I was glad of any

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