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Every leaping billow gleams
With the lustre of her beams,
And lifts high its fiery plume

Through the midnight's parting gloom;
While its scatter'd flakes of gold
O'er the sinking deck are roll'd.

Father low on bended knee,
Humbled, weak, we turn to thee!
Spare us, 'mid the fearful fight
Of the raging winds to-night!
Guide us o'er the threatening wave:
Save us! Thou alone canst save!

OH! HAD WE SOME BRIGHT LITTLE ISLE OF OUR OWN.

T. MOORE.]

[Air-"Sheela Na Guira."

OH! had we some bright little isle of our own,

In a blue summer ocean, far off and alone;

Where a leaf never dies in the still-blooming bow'rs,
And the bee banquets on thro' a whole year of flow'rs;
Where the sun loves to pause
With so fond a delay,

That the night only draws

A thin veil o'er the day;

Where simply to feel that we breathe, that we live, Is worth the best joy that life elsewhere can give.

There, with souls ever ardent and pure as the clime We should love as they lov'd in the first golden time; The glow of the sunshine, the balm of the air,

Would steal to our hearts, and make all summer there! With affection as free

From decline as the bowers;

And with hope, like the bee,
Living always on flowers,

Our life should resemble a long day of light,
And our death come on holy and calm as the night.

UP, QUIT THY BOWER.

UP! quit thy bower, late wears the hour;
Long have the rooks caw'd round thy tower;
On flower and tree loud hums the bee,
The wilding kid sports merrily:
A day so bright, so fresh, so clear,
Shineth when good fortune's near.

Up! lady fair, and braid thy hair,
And rouse thee in the breezy air;
The lulling stream, that sooth'd thy dream,
Is dancing in the sunny beam;
And hours so sweet, so bright, so gay,
Will waft good fortune on its way.

BOATMAN'S SONG.

[ANNA BLACKWELL.] SOFTLY, oh, softly the shadows are falling Over the stream as our bark glides along ; Sweetly, oh, sweetly the echoes are calling, Around us, above us, repeating our song. "Daylight is ending, our labour is o'er;

Our homes and our loved ones we seek on the shore ; Even and strong be the sweep of our oar !

Our homes and our loved ones we'll find on the shore !"

Brightly, oh, brightly, the silver stars gleaming,
Lighten the wave as our bark shoots along;
Nearer, oh, nearer, the watchfires are beaming;
Raise we in chorus our glad even-song!
66 Daylight is ended, our labour is o'er !
Swiftly, O, loved ones! we row to the shore!
Even and strong was the sweep of our oar,
And light are our hearts as we leap on the shore !

THE MATIN CALL.

G. LINLEY.] [Music by G. LINLEY. AH! is it not the matin bell, dear mother, that I hear? Yes, hark, it sweetly sounds again, now louder and more clear.

Ope wide the window, for I love each soft and soothing tone,

It minds me of a joyous time, alas! for ever gone. Draw back the curtain, let me see the green and waving

trees,

My heart will be revived to share the sunshine and the breeze.

I heard the sound of rustling leaves, and wild birds gaily sing;

I feel the breath of op'ning flow'rs a fragrance round me fling :

But I must part from all I love, this pain will soon be

past.

Oh, kneel beside me, mother dear, and let me look my

last!

When next you hear the matin bell, this heart at peace will be ;

Then listen to its solemn chime, and breathe a pray'r for me.

OH! WHEN THE TIDE WAS OUT.

T. HAYNES BAYLY.]

[Music by SIR H. R. BISHOP.

OH! when the tide was out last night

In yonder bay we roved,

We gather'd shells, and on the sand
We wrote the names we loved;
And now we wander forth to find
No friendly records there;
The morning tide effaced the words
We wrote with so much care.

'Tis thus with all whose glory rests
Upon the sands of earth;
In vain is all the pomp of pride,
As vain the smiles of mirth;
The ceaseless tide at intervals
Will rush o'er all the scene;
"Twill pass-and not a record then
Will tell where they have been.

OUR SAILORS AND OUR SHIPS.

[ELIZA COOK.]

How dashingly in sun and light the frigate makes her

way;

Her white sails spreading full and bright beneath the gleaming ray!

The gale may wake, but she will take whatever wind may come;

Fit car to bear the ocean god upon his crystal home. She cleaves the tide with might and pride, like warhorse freed from rein;

She treats the wave like abject slave-the empress of the main ;

All, all shall mark the gallant bark, their hearts upon their lips;

And cry "Old England, who shall match thy sailors and thy ships?"

Stout forms, strong arms, and dauntless spirits dwell upon the deck;

True to their cause in calm or storm, in battle or in wreck.

No foe will meet a coward hand, faint heart or quailing

eye:

They only know to fall or stand, to live the brave or die.

The flag that carries round the world a Nelson's victor

name

Must never shield a dastard knave or strike in craven

shame.

Let triumph scan her blazing page, no record shall eclipse

The glory of old England's Cross, her sailors and her ships.

The tempest breath sweeps o'er the sea with howlings of despair,

Death walks upon the waters, but the tar must face and bear :

The bullets hiss, the broadside pours, 'mid sulphur, blood, and smoke,

And prove a British crew and craft alike are hearts of oak.

Oh! ye who live 'mid fruit and flowers-the peaceful, safe, and free

Yield up a prayer for those who dare the perils of the

sea.

"God and our Right!" those are the words e'er first upon our lips;

But next shall be, "Old England's flag, our sailors and our ships!"

TELL ME NO MORE.

T. HAYNES BAYLY.]

[Music by JOHN BRAHAM.

TELL me no more that hearts less warm,
Feel not the sorrows felt by me;

Passing unmoved by sun and storm

Over a tranquil sea:

Mine be the heart which feeling sways;

Tho' like the ocean's varied form-
Tranquil and bright in sunny days,
Ruffled in hours of storm.

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