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Their dulcet shells!-I hear them now;
Slow swells the strain upon mine ear;
Now faintly falls-now warbles low,
"Till rapture melts into a tear.

The ray

that silvers o'er the dew,
And trembles thro' the leafy shade,
And tints the scene with softer hue,
Calls me to rove the lonely glade.

Or hie me to some ruin'd tow'r,

Faintly shewn by moonlight gleam,
Where the lone wand'rer owns my pow'r
In shadow dire, that substance seem:
In thrilling sounds that murmur woe,

And pausing silence makes more dread;
In music breathing from below

Sad solemn strains, that wake the dead.

Unseen I move-unknown am fear'd;
Fancy's wildest dreams I weave;
And oft by bards my voice is heard
To die along the gales of eve.

SONG.

Tune-The Roast Beef of Old England.

WHILST from Egypt's rich coast smiling vict'ry flies,
And notes, the most loyal, ascend to the skies,
Let us join in the praise of this bold enterprise,

And sing the brave tars of Old England!
And 'tis, O the Old English brave tars!

Our far-fam'd Britannia so justly admir'd,
By th' ocean protected, by commerce attir'd,
Loves the blessings of peace;-but, when she is fir'd,
O then the brave tars!

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Now the dreadful thunder's roaring,
Peal on peal contending clash,
On our heads fierce rain falls pouring,
In our eyes blue lightnings flash.
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 foremast'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 our 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!

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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 come ev'ry hand, boys,
See! our mizen mast is gone.

The leak we've found it cannot pour
We've lighten'd her a foot or more;

Up and rig a jury fore-mast,

fast

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She rights! she rights, boys! wear off shore.

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SONG.

(ORIGINAL.)

Tune-Go to the Devil and shake yourself.

WHAT matters all bother 'bout this and the other,
Let the world jog as 'twill why I'm always at rest;
I ne'er pops in blarney, nor kicks up a bother,
With my friend, jug, and pipe, I think myself blest:
My life is a round of the sweetest of pleasure,
Each hour as it passes enjoyments do bring,

And gaily at eve I tript to the measure

Of pipe and of tabor, and joyously sing--
CHORUS

Our country, our rights, and our laws we'll maintain,
No party or faction our int'rests shall sever;

My toast then be this: "The brave lads on the main, King George and his Queen, may they both live for

ever.

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Come, push round the bottle, confusion to sadness,
To be thinking on any thing now would be folly;
While we journey on earth 'tis surely a madness
To sacrifice time to a dull melancholy:

With care, from your hearts, drive all malice and

rancour,

They are poisonous weeds, and no blessing can bring, But spreading around them a dread venom'd canker, Will render you hateful, then no more will you sing

CHORUS.

Our country, our rights, and our laws we'll maintain,
No party or faction our int'rests shall sever;
My toast then be this: "The brave lads on the main,
King George and his Queen, may they both live for

ever.

THE POOR SHIPWRECK'D BOY.

(ORIGINAL.)

By Mr. T. Inskip.

THE night darkly lour'd, the fierce tempest rav'd,
A rude gust of wind dash'd the ship to and fro,
When she struck on a rock, scarce a soul was there sav’d,
And she sunk overwhelm'd in the abyss below.

Sam Truelove and I, with two or three more,
By a miracle 'scap'd, tho' I can't tell for why;
On a piece of the mainmast I floated ashore,
Where I mourn the sad fate of a poor Shipwreck'd
Boy.

How hard is my fate, from my messmates I'm torn, My messmates, the kindest and faithfulest friends; A poor houseless stranger I wander forlorn,

Subsisting on nought, save what charity lends.

Tho' the tempest was cruel no pray'rs could subdue,
All relentless so many poor souls to destroy;
Far more cruel the heart, that unpitying can view,
And deny a relief to the poor Shipwreck'd Boy.

Four actions I've seen under Nelson and Howe,
Some glory from either I justly might claim;
My country I love, ne'er so happy I vow

As when guarding its shores, or advancing its fame.

Now fortune's revers'd, and I'm plung'd in distress,
Not an object I view can afford any joy;
Then pity my fate, and that hour you'll bless,
When kindly relieving a poor Shipwreck'd Boy.

SONG.

By E. S. J. Author of William and Ellen.

THE gude man turn'd the barn door key,
The nowte were in the byre;

The gude wife span wi' muckle glee,
The weans play'd rown the fire.

I sat me in the ingle nook,
And joked wi' my luver,

But a' the jokes that I cou'd crack,
The deel a ane could muve her.

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I saw the draps rin happing doon,
And o'er her cheeks sae fairly;
And ev'ry tear that wat the grun,
It touch'd my heart fou fairly.

I scarcely dou to spear the cause,
That set my luve a greeting;
I little kend she thought me fause,
And sair my heart was beeting.

Wae me! she told me a' her fears,
She said I wink'd at Jenny,
Which was the cause o' a' her tears;
She thought I loo'd na Annie.

O! gie me sic a lass as this,
And fortune I despise her,
Wi' Annie's luve I'll live in bliss,
And fashion ne'er disguise her.

Let fortune now, do what she dow,
Wi' Annie always smiling,

I hae no cares, I hae no fears,
Bat saft doon life a sailing.

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