We have gallant old Charley to lead us,

To the hearts of true sailors he's dear;
And whenever our country may need us,
May we fight 'neath the flag of Napier.

Do you think we shall ever forget, boys,
How the Queen came to bid us good-bye,
And she knew by the shouts that she met, boys,
Ev'ry man there would conquer or die.
Why there isn't a press'd man among us,
So Old England has nothing to fear;
For our maxim is "don't go to wrong us,"
And we'll fight to the death with Napier.

Let 'em say not, You shall serve, but Will you
And whenever Old England's a foe,
There are jolly Jack-tars by the thousand
Ever ready and willing to go.

And the heart and the arm will be stronger,
When like us, boys, they both volunteer,
And the laurels will last all the longer,
As you'll hear from old Charley Napier.

CONSTANCY REWARDED.
[CHARLES DIBDIN.]

BLEAK was the morn when William left his Nancy,
The fleecy snow frown'd on the whiten'd shore,
Cold as the fears that chill'd her dreary fancy,
When she her sailor from her bosom tore.
To his fill'd heart, a little Nancy pressing,
Whilst a young tar the ample trousers eyed,
In need of firmness, in this state distressing,
Will check'd the rising sigh, and fondly cried,
Ne'er fear the perils of the fickle ocean,
Sorrow's all a notion, grief all in vain ;
Sweet love, take heart, for we but part
In joy, in joy to meet again.

Loud blew the wind, when, leaning on that willow, Where the dear name of William printed stood, Nancy, she saw upon a faithless billow,

A ship dash'd 'gainst a rock that topp'd the flood. Her tender heart, with frantic sorrow thrilling, Wild as the storm that howl'd along the shore; No longer could resist a stroke so killing,

'Tis he, she cried, nor shall I see him more ! Why did he ever trust the fickle ocean?

Sorrow's now my portion, and misery and pain; Break, break, poor heart, for now we part, Never, no never to meet again!

Mild was the eve, all nature was smiling,

Four tedious years had Nancy passed in grief; Whilst with her children the sad hours beguiling, She saw her William fly to her relief;

Sunk in his arms! with bliss she quickly found him,
Soon she return'd to life, to love, and joy;

Whilst his grown young ones anxiously surround him,
And now Will clasps his girl, and now his boy.
Did not I say, tho' it was a fickle ocean,

Sorrow's all a notion, grief all in vain?
My joy, how sweet! for now we meet,
Never, no never, to part again.

FOR ENGLAND AND THE QUEEN.

[Music by T. WILLIAMS.]

OUR gallant ship has righted, spread her canvas to the gale,

For right astern fair breezes blow, and loose the flowing sail;

We've got a trusty helmsman, a pilot stanch and true, And hearts of British oak, my boys, are old Britannia's crew!

Huzza! huzza! for old Britannia's crew, my boys,

huzza! huzza!

Long live our noble admiral, who taught the foreign

foe

The inborn might of heart and hand that strikes a British blow;

For now who'll dare in east or west to raise a hostile hand

Against the Prince of Heroes, or against his patriot band!

Huzza, huzza, &c.

Then hoist the royal standard, upraise the Union Jack, Strike, strike the traitor's bunting, the pirate's rag of black!

And let the true blue pennon on her mainmast head

be seen,

And give three hearty cheers, my boys, for England and the Queen!

Huzza, huzza, &c.

Again we'll rule the waters as we ruled them once of

yore,

Again we'll bear the ancient flag, that old Britannia bore;

She's bravely mann'd at every point, with men that know not fear,

Then give three hearty British cheers for Admiral Napier.

Huzza, huzza, &c.

HOW HAPPY COULD I BE WITH

EITHER.

[JOHN GAY.]

How happy could I be with either,
Were t'other dear charmer away!
But while you thus tease me together,
To neither one word can I say.

From Thames, and Tweed, and Shannon:

The Bourbon flowers grow pale

When I hang out my pennon;

I'll win thee gold and gems

With pike and cutlass clashing,

With all my broad sails set
And all my cannon flashing.

Come with me and see

The golden islands glowing,
Come with me and hear

The flocks of India lowing;
Thy fire shall be of spice,

The dews of eve drop manna,

Thy chamber floor of gold,

And men adore thee, Anna.

THE NIGHT STORM AT SEA.

EPES SARGEANT.]

'Tis a dreary thing to be

[Music by DEMPSTER,

Tossing on the wide, wide sea,

When the sun has set in clouds,

And the wind sighs through the shrouds,
With a voice and with a tone

Like a living creature's moan!

Look! how wildly swells the surge
Round the black horizon's verge!
See the giant billows rise

From the ocean to the skies!

While the sea-bird wheels his flight
O'er their streaming crests of white,

List! the wind is wakening fast!
All the sky is overcast !
Lurid vapours, hurrying, trail
In the pathway of the gale,

As it strikes us with a shock

That might rend the deep-set rock!

Falls the strain'd and shiver'd mast!
Spars are scatter'd by the blast!
And the sails are split asunder,
As a cloud is rent by thunder;
And the struggling vessel shakes,
As the wild sea o'er her breaks.

Ah! what sudden light is this,
Blazing o'er the dark abyss?
Lo the full moon rears her form
'Mid the cloud-rifts of the storm,
And athwart the troubled air
Shines, like hope upon despair!