Your merry mates cheer, with a lusty bold spright, Now each man his brendice, and then to the fight, St. George, St. George, we cry, The shouting Turks reply. Oh, now it begins and the gun-room grows hot, Hark! does it not thunder? No, 'tis the gun's roar, For here the cowards cannot fly. Now, now they grapple, and now board amain, COME IF YOU DARE. From "King Arthur." DRYDEN. JOME, if you dare, our trumpets sound; Now they charge on amain, The gods from above the mad labour behold, The fainting Saxons quit their ground, To the plunder we run; We return to our lasses like fortunate traders, Triumphant with spoils of the vanquish'd invaders. JACK ANCHOR. EDWARD FARMER. JACK ANCHOR was leaving to plough the salt wave, Not a soul 'mong his messmates more gallant, more brave; And he stepp'd in the boat as they pull'd from the shore, To go where guns rattle, and loud cannons roar. And he went with a smile, not a tear dimm'd his eye, Though his Poll and his little ones were standing close by "For my Queen," said bold Jack, "I will peril my life, For I know they'll take care of my children and wife." Once more, to his friends upon shore, waved his hand, And departed to fight for his dear native land. The vessel he sail'd in has vanish'd from sight, HURRAH FOR ENGLAND! LD England is our home, And Englishmen are we; Our tongue is known in ev'ry clime, We will not say that we alone The right of freedom know, There's many a land that's free beside, But England made it so. The thunder of her battle ships Was heard on many a shore, But her healing words of peace was heard Then let us shout for England, The world-beloved England! Let every true man shout with us, Mothers and wives of England, Ye bear no common sons! The child who on your breast doth lie, Then let us shout for England! And the great, good hearts of England! FAR, FAR UPON THE SEA. AR, far upon the sea, The good ship speeding free, Upon the deck we gather, young and old, And view the flapping sail Swelling out before the gale, Full and round without a wrinkle or a fold. By the vessel's stately side, Or the wild sea-birds that follow through the air; Or gather in a ring, And with cheerful voices sing, Oh! gaily goes the ship when the wind blows fair. Far, far upon the sea, With the sunshine on our lee, We talk of pleasant days when we were young, And remember, though we roam, The sweet melodies of home, The happy songs of childhood which we sung; Sound the glories that Britannia yet shall bear, And never shall be slaves" Oh! gaily goes the ship when the wind blows fair. The thought of it shall cheer us as we go, "In the days of auld lang syne," With voice by memory soften'd clear and low; Battling sorrow with a smile, Shall sing "St. Patrick's Morning," void of care, And thus we pass the day, As we journey on our way Oh! gaily goes the ship when the wind blows fair. THE ALBION. THOMAS DIBDIN. HE Albion is a noble ship, |