This fleet then sail'd out, and the winds they did blow, Their guns made a terrible clatter;

66

Our noble Queen Bess, 'cause she wanted to know,

Quill'd her ruff and cried, "Pray, what's the matter?"
They say, my good Queen," replied Howard so stout,
"The Spaniard has drawn his toledo;

Cock sure that he'll thump us, and kick us about,
With th' invincible Spanish Armada."

The Lord Mayor of London, a very wise man,
What to do in this case vastly wonder'd;

Says the Queen, "Send in fifty good ships if you can.'
Says my Lord, "Ma'am, I'll send in a hundred."
Our fire-ships they soon struck their cannons all dumb,
For the Dons run to ave and credo.

Great Medina roars out, "Sure the devil is come,
For th' invincible Spanish Armada."

On Effingham's squadron, though all in a breast,
Like open mouth curs they came bowling:
His sugar-plums, finding they could not digest,
Away home they ran yelping and howling.
Whene'er Britain's foes shall, with envy agog,
In our Channel make such a bravado-
Huzza, my brave boys! we're still able to flog
An invincible Spanish Armada !

THE SEA.

BARRY CORNWALL.

THE Sea, the sea, the open sea,
The blue, the fresh, the ever free:
Without a mark, without a bound,

It runneth the earth's wide regions round:
It plays with the clouds, it mocks the skies,

Or like a cradled creature lies.

I'm on the sea, I'm on the sea,

I am where I would ever be,

With the blue above and the blue below,

And silence wheresoe'er I go.

If a storm should come and awake the deep,
What matter? I shall ride and sleep.

I love, O how I love to ride

On the fierce, foaming, bursting tide,
Where every mad wave drowns the moon,
And whistles aloft its tempest tune:
And tells how goeth the world below,
And why the south-west wind doth blow.
I never was on the dull, tame shore,
But I loved the deep sea more and more,
And backward flew to her billowy breast,
Like a bird that seeketh its mother's nest-
And a mother she was and is to me,
For I was born on the open sea.

The waves were white, and red the morn,
In the noisy hour when I was born;
The whale it whistled, the porpoise roll'd,
And the dolphins bared their backs of gold;
And never was heard such an outcry wild,
As welcom'd to life the ocean child.

I have lived since then, in calm and strife,
Full fifty summers a rover's life,

With wealth to spend, and a power to range,
But never have sought or sighed for change;
And death, whenever he comes to me,
Shall come on the wide unbounded sea!

THE NEGLECTED SAILOR.

EDWARD RUSHTON, of Liverpool, born 1756, died 1814.

I SING the British seaman's praise,
A theme renown'd in story:

It well deserves more polish'd lays,

O'tis your boast and glory;

When mad-brained war spreads death around
By them you are protected,

But when in peace the nation's found,

These bulwarks are neglected.

Then O protect the hardy tar,
Be mindful of his merit,

And when again you're plung'd in war,
He'll show his daring spirit,

When thickest darkness covers all,

Far on the trackless ocean;

When lightnings dart, when thunders roll,
And all in wild commotion,

When o'er the bark the white topt waves,
With boist'rous sweep, and rolling,
Yet coolly still the whole he braves,
Untam'd amidst the howling.

Then O protect, &c.

When deep immers'd in sulph'rous smoke,
He seeks a glowing pleasure,

He loads his gun, he cracks his joke,
Elated beyond measure;

Tho' fore and aft the blood-stain'd deck,
Should lifeless trunks appear,

Or should the vessel float a wreck,

The sailor knows no fear.

Then O protect, &c.

When long becalm'd on southern brine,
Where scorching beams assail him,
When all the canvass hangs supine,
And food and water fail him;
Then oft he dreams of Britain's shore,
Where plenty still is reigning,
They call the watch, his rapture's o'er,
He sighs, but scorns complaining
Then O protect, &c.

Or burning on that noxious coast,
Where death so oft befriends him,
Or pinch'd by hoary Greenland frost,
True courage still attends him.

No time can this eradicate,

He glories in annoyance;

He fearless braves the storm of fate,

And bids grim death defiance.

Then O protect, &c.

Why should the man who knows no fear,

In peace be e'er neglected;

Behold him move along the pier,

Pale, meagre, and dejected.

Behold him begging for employ,
Behold him disregarded;

Then view the anguish of his eye,
And say, are tars regarded?

Then O protect, &c.

To them your dearest rights you owe,
In peace then would you starve them?
What say ye Britain's sons? Oh, no!

Protect them and preserve them.

Shield them from poverty and pain,

'Tis policy to do it;

Or, when war shall come again,

O Britons ye may rue it.

Then O protect, &c.

A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA. ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.

A WET sheet and a flowing sea,

A wind that follows fast,

And fills the white and rustling sail,
And bends the gallant mast.

And bends the gallant mast, my boys,
While like the eagle free,

Away the good ship flies, and leaves
Old England on the lee.

O, for a soft and gentle wind!

I heard a fair one cry;

But give to me the swelling breeze,

And white waves heaving high.

The white waves heaving high, my lads,
The good ship tight and free,—

The world of waters is our home,
And merry men are we.

There's tempest in yon horned moon,

And lightning in yon cloud;

And hark, the music, mariners!
The wind is wakening loud.

The wind is wakening loud, my boys,

The lightning flashes free,—

The hollow oak our palace is,

Our heritage the sea.

PATRIOTIC AND MILITARY SONGS.

NGLISH Literature possesses but two Patriotic songs which can be considered pre-eminently National, the anthems of "God save the Queen," and "Rule Britannia." Neither of these, as a poetical composition, is of the highest order of merit,

and both of them owe their great popularity almost entirely to the beautiful music with which their indifferent poetry has been associated. As regards our patriotic songs in general, the English people have so long been accustomed to attribute to the naval service the chief glory and defence of the country, that the sea songs have become with the two great exceptions named, more patriotic in their character than the songs which celebrate the deeds of the military. The Battle of