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We ne'er see our foes but we wish them to stay ;
They never see us but they wish us away ;
If they run, why, we follow, or run them ashore;
For if they won't fight us we cannot do more.

Hearts of oak, &c.
They swear they'll invade us, these terrible foes !
They frighten our women, our children, and beaux ;
But should their flat bottoms in darkness get o'er,
Still Britons they'll find to receive them on shore.

Hearts of oak, &c. Britannia triumphant, her ships sweep the sea ; Her standard is Justice—her watchword, “Be free." Then cheer up, my lads ! with one heart let us sing, “Our soldiers, our sailors, our statesmen and king."

Hearts of oak, &c.

THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE.

WILLIAM Cowper, born 1731, died 1800.
TOLL for the brave !

The brave that are no more !
All sunk beneath the wave,

Fast by their native shore.
Eight hundred of the brave,

Whose courage well was tried,
Had made the vessel heel,

And laid her on her side.
A land breeze shook the shrouds,

And she was overset ;
Down went the Royal George

With all her crew complete.
Toll for the brave !

Brave Kempenfelt is gone ;
His last sea fight is fought;

His work of glory done.
It was not in the battle ;

No tempest gave the shock ;
She sprang no fatal leak;

She ran upon no rock.

His sword was in its sheath ;

His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down

With twice four hundred men. Weigh the vessel up,

Once dreaded by our foes ! And mingle with our cup

The tear that England owes. Her timbers yet are sound,

And she may float again, Full charged with England's thunder,

And plough the distant main. But Kempenfelt is gone,

His victories are o'er ; And he and his eight hundred

Shall plough the wave no more.

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THE STORM. GEORGE ALEXANDER SEEVENS, died 1784. (Often attributed to Falcone

the Author of “The Shipwreck.") CEASE rude Boreas, blust'ring railer! List

ye

landsmen all to me,
Messmates hear a brother sailor

Sing the dangers of the sea ;
From bounding billows, first in motion,

When the distant whirlwinds rise,
To the tempest troubled ocean,

Where the seas contend with skies.

Hark! the boatswain hoarsly bawling,

"By topsail-sheets and haulyards stand!" "Down top-gallants quick be hawling,"

"Down your stay-sails, hand, boys, hand !" “ Now it freshens, set the braces,

Quick the top-sail-sheets let go ;
Luff, boys, luff! don't make wry faces,

Up your top-sails nimbly clew.”
Now all you on down beds sporting

Fondly lock’ in beauty's arms,
Fresh enjoyments wanton courting,

Safe from all but love's alarms :
Round us roars the tempest louder,

Think what fear our minds enthrals;
Harder yet, it yet blows harder.

Now again the boatswain calls.
“The top-sail yard point to the wind, boys;

See all clear to reef each course ;
Let the fore-sheet go, don't mind, boys,

Tho' the weather should be worse.
Fore and aft the sprit-sail-yard get,

Reef the mizen, see all clear ;
Hands up ! each preventive brace set !

Man the fore yard, cheer, lads, eheer!
Now the dreadful thunder's roaring,

Peal on peal contending clash,
On our heads fierce rain falls pouring,

In our eyes blue lightnings flash.

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One wide water all around us,

All above us one black sky;
Different deaths at once surround us:

Hark! what means that dreadful cry?
“The fore-mast's gone,” cries ev'ry tongue out,

• O'er the lee twelve feet 'bove deck ;-
A leak beneath the chest-tree's sprung out,

Call all hands to clear the wreck.
Quick, the lanyards cut to pieces ;

Come, my hearts, be stout and bold;
Plumb the well—the leak increases,

Four feet water in the hold !"
While o'er the ship wild waves are beating,

We for wives and children mourn;
Alas! from hence there's no retreating,

Alas! to them there's no return !
Still the leak is gaining on us !

Both chain-pumps are choked below:
Heaven have mercy here upon us !

For only that can save us now.
O'er the lee-beam is the land, boys,

Let the guns o'erboard be thrown;
To the pumps call ev'ry hand, boys,

See! our mizen-mast is gone.
The leak we've found it cannot pour fast ;

We've lighted her a foot or more;
Up and rig a jury fore-mast,

She rights! she rights, boys! we're off shore. Another stanza to this song appears in some collections, but we omit it, as not necessary to the completion of the story, and as quite unworthy of the sentiinent which per. vades the rest of the piece. According to some versions, the last line should read "She rights! she rights, boys ! wear off shore."

COME, BUSTLE, BUSTLE.

From the “Convivial Songster," 1782.
COME, bustle, bustle, drink about,

And let us merry be;
Our can is full, we'll see it out,
And then all hands to sea.

And a sailing we will go, will go,
And a sailing we will go.

K

Fine Miss at dancing school is taught

The minuet to tread,
But we go better when we've brought
The fore tack to cat-head.

And a sailing, &c.
The jockey's called to horse, to horse,

And swiftly rides the race ;
But swifter far we shape our course
When we are giving chase,

And a sailing, &c.
When horns and shouts the forest rend,

The pack the huntsmen cheer,
As loud we holloa when we send
A broadside to Mounseer,

And a sailing, &c.
With gold and silver streamers fine

The ladies' rigging show;
But English ships more grandly shine,
When prizes home we tow.

And a sailing, &c.
What's got at sea, we spend on shore

With sweethearts and with wives,
And then, my boys, hoist sail for more;
Thus sailors pass their lives.

And a sailing they do go, do go;
And a sailing they do go.

THE BAY OF BISCAY, O!

ANDREW CHERRY.

Loud roared the dreadful thunder,

The rain a deluge showers, The clouds were rent asunder

By lightning's vivid powers ; The night both drear and dark,

Our poor devoted bark, Till next day, there she lay,

In the Bay of Biscay, 0!

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