No more to press her to his heart: Then smiled, to find 'twas but a dream. Next morn a vessel hove in sight; And Jack made England with the prize; He held his Nancy to his heart: BRITANNIA'S NAME. RITANNIA'S name, from age to age, Her sailors, rulers of the sea, Her soldiers, of that soil On which the industrious peasantry, All, all, shall hail Britannia's name, Then sing our tars, who boldly roam And sing our soldiers, who at home And sing our peasants, at a word Who, of mankind the friend, Would turn each ploughshare to a sword, All, all, shall sing Britannia's name, A DOSE FOR THE DONS. EARLY as the stream that guides its vital motion, Be cherish'd by each grateful British The great event that gave the lordly ocean When Jervis, with his gallant fleet, Strange signal-guns all night distinctly hearing, When day's faint dawn presented first the shore, We, anxious, on the starboard tack were steering, While, east-by-north, eight leagues, Cape Vincent bore: Near ten, propitious hope came on; Our signal for a large fleet flew; When instant, with a press of sail, Form'd in two lines, onward we gaily stood; Of the astonish'd Don. Ships twenty-seven now bid a bold defiance; Fate on one grand manœuvre hinged One mighty stroke, prompt, dangerous, and bold: But what of English tars the courage can withhold? We broke their straggling line, scared every heart, And Jack the tawny whiskers singed Of the astonish'd Don. Here might I dwell on this unequall'd action, But English seamen never brag—they fight. In the deep a watery grave to meet: Fair England proudly with one voice shall sing While some such heroes lead the glorious strain That humbled the proud Don. A SEAMAN'S DITTY. OME, listen to a seaman's ditty Tom Taffrail was the hero's name; Tom went to sea; duty inclined him Kind hearts may dwell in bosoms homely; In man's attire Tom's steps attend: True pleasures are for no one mortal: His own life ebbing near its end, THE TIZZIES. AM SPLINT, Dick Douse, Ben Brace, Four lads of worth and merit, Were friends and messmates, who the foe Would fight with spunk and spirit. Sall Snags, Poll Plump, Bet Bounce, Nan Neat, For these they fought, and, oh, how sweet 'Board of a smiling cot, so fair, In every danger did they roam, Where dangerous shoals and rocks abound, And where the bullet whizzes, Our sailors storms and shipwrecks found, |