I oft have lov'd the brilliant glow Of rapture in her blue eye streaming- No, no! yet, love, I will not chide, Could keep your faithful boy from loving. You'll soon be distant from his eye, And with you all that's worth possessing; JACK'S GRATITUDE. [CHARLES DIBDIN.] I'VE sail'd round the world without fear or dismay; I've seen the wind foul, and I've seen the wind fair; I've been wounded, and shipwreck'd, and trick'd of my pay; But a brave British sailor should never despair. When in a French prison I chanc'd for to lie, With no light from the heavens, and scarce any air, In a dungeon instead of in battle to die, Was dismal I own, but I did not despair. But, Lord! this is nothing-my poor upper works I've been shot by the French, and a slave 'mongst the But a brave British sailor should never despair. But for all these misfortunes, I'd yet cut a dash, Laid snug up my timbers, and never known care, If the agent had not run away with the cash, And so many brave fellows plung'd into despair. So coming long-side of our bold royal tar, I told him the rights on't,-for why should I care? Of my wrongs and my hardships, and wounds in the wars, And if how he would right me I should not despair. Says his Highness, says he, "Such ill treatment as thine Is a shame, and henceforward thy fortune's my care:" So now blessings on him sing out me and mine; And thus British seamen should never despair. So straightway he got it made into a law, That each tar of his rhino should have his full share ; And so agents, d'ye see, may coil up their slack jaw, For the Duke is our friend, and we need not despair. Then push round the grog: though we face the whole world, Let our royal tar's pennant but fly in the air, And the sails of our navy again be unfurl'd, We'll strike wond'ring nations with awe and despair. THE SWEET LITTLE ANGEL. WHEN Jack parted from me to plough the salt deep, In spite of all talking I could not but weep, Then he broke from my arms, and bid me farewell, So, d'ye hear, avast whining, and sobbing, my girl, "Tis all foolish nonsense in you. I could not help thinking that Jack was in right, While he's at a distance each thought is employ'd, But then 'tis but fancy; that angel above, What matters repining, my heart shall be light, But should that sweet angel, wherever he be, But oh! it can't be, he's too good and too kind, And why should I then each tale-teller mind, Besides, I will never kind Providence slight; MOORINGS. [CHARLES DIBDIN.] "I'VE heard," cried out one, "that you tars tack and tack, And at sea what strange hardships befall you; But I don't know what's moorings.' -"What! Don't you?" said Jack; "Man your ear-tackle then, and I'll tell you :Suppose you'd a daughter quite beautiful grown, And, in spite of her pray'rs and implorings, Some scoundrel abus'd her, and you knock'd him down, Why, d'ye see, he'd be safe at his moorings. "In life's voyage should you trust a false friend with the helm, The top-lifts of his heart all a-kimbo, A tempest of treach'ry your bark will o'erwhelm, "If wedlock's your port, and your mate true and kind, But if some frisky skiff, crank at every joint, Shape your course how you will, still you'll make To lay up like a beacon at moorings. "A glutton's safe moor'd, head and stern, by the gout; A drunkard's safe moor'd under the table; In straws, drowning men will hope's anchor find out; Thus mankind are a ship, life a boisterous main, FOR HER SAILOR BRAVES THE [REYNOLDS.] SAYS Ella to her love, "Remember, Tho' doom'd to part, you constant view Anxious Ella shall not sleep But most tempestuous is the weather, Swift to the shore she flies complaining, For her sailor braves the deep. ON BOARD OUR TRIM VESSEL. WHEN on board our trim vessel we joyously sail'd, And the glass circl'd round with full glee, King and country to give my old shipmate ne'er fail'd, And the toast was soon toss'd off by me. Billows might dash, Lightning might flash, 'Twas the same to us both when at sea. If a too powerful foe in our track did but pass, Quick we number'd our guns, and for each took a glass, Cannons might roar, Echo'd from shore, 'Twas the same to us both when at sea. But a cannon ball one day in a fight, From the deck knock'd him into the sea, Cannons let roar, Echo'd from shore, For the grave of a sailor's the sea. |