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One who threaten'd your life, dash'd below by a wave, Your own hand I saw snatch from a watery grave; And you said 'twas well done, for that still with the

brave The noblest of glory's to spare.

When yard-arm and yard-arm ’longside of a foe, When the blood from the scuppers rain’d on us

below, When crippled enough to be taken in tow To strike we saw Mounseer prepare; If a broadside below, or a volley above, The men were all ready to give her for love, How oft has your honour cried, “Not a hand move, A hero's true glory's to spare.”

THE ANCHOR'S WEIGHED.

HE tear fell gently from her eye,

When last we parted on the shore,
My bosom heaved with many a sigh,

To think I ne'er might see her more. • Dear youth,” she cried, “and canst thou haste

away? My heart will break—a little moment stay, Alas! I cannot, cannot part from thee!” “ The anchor's weighed-farewell! remember me.”

“Weep not, my love,” I trembling said;

“ Doubt not a constant heart like mine; I ne'er can meet another maid

Whose charms can fix this heart like thine.”

“Go, then,” she cried, “and let thy constant mind

Oft think on her you leave in tears behind.” “Dear maid, this last embrace my pledge shall beThe anchor's weighed_farewell! remember me.”

THE BRITISH FLAG FLIES AT THE MAIN.

OUR slack-jaw belay, if you ask Jack's

opinion,
Our flag 'tis to hoist to the breeze,
Or die at our guns, ere we yield the

dominion
We proudly possess of the seas.
Our birthright recorded in maritime story,

Which against the whole world we'll maintain, And ever obey'd shall the symbol of glory,

The British flag, fly at the main.

Our rule to dispute, urged by envy and rancour,

Oft navy to navy hath join'd,
But promptitude ever hath proved our sheet-anchor,
And baffled their efforts combined.
Indignant defiance our guns hurl in thunder,

Their threats we return with disdain ;
The envy at once of the world, and its wonder,

The British flag flies at the main.
In rain ships and commerce Gaul's tyrants may try for,
Our maritime rights to invade long may sigh for,

And pant to invade Britain's shore:

For nautical aid all implore;

But true to ourselves’mid the world's wide commotion,

We bravely those rights will maintain ;
And for ever the glory and pride of the ocean,

The British flag, flies at the main.

THE SHANNON AND CHESAPEAKE.

HE comes, she comes, in glorious style

To quarters fly, ye hearts of oak!
Success shall soon reward our toil,”

Exclaim'd the gallant Captain Broke. “ Three cheers, my brave boys, let your ardour

bespeak, And give them a round from your cannon, And soon they shall find that the proud Chesapeake

Shall lower her flag to the Shannon.”

Lawrence, Columbia's pride and boast,

Of conquest counted sure as fate; He thus address'd his haughty host,

With form erect and heart elate« Three cheers, my brave boys, let your courago

bespeak, And give them a taste of your cannon; And soon they shall know that the proud Chesapeake

Shall ne'er lower a flag to the Shannon.”

Silent as death each foe drew nigh;

While lock'd in hostile close embrace, Brave Broke, with British seaman's eye,

The signs of terror soon could trace;

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He exclaim’d, while his looks did his ardour bespeak,

“Brave boys, they all flinch from their cannon; Board, board, my brave messmates, the proud

Chesapeake
Shall soon be a prize for the Shannon.”
Swift flew the word, Britannia's sons

Spread death and terror where they came;
The trembling foe forsook their guns,

And called aloud on Mercy's name.
Brave Broke led the way, but fell, wounded and weak,

Yet exclaim'd, “They have fled from their cannon;
Three cheers, my brave seamen, the proud Chesapeake

Has lower'd her flag to the Shannon.”
The day was won, but Lawrence fell;

He closed his eyes in endless night:
And oft Columbia's sons will tell

Of hopes all blighted in that fight.
But brave Captain Broke, though wounded and weak,

Survived to again play his cannon;
And his name from the shores of the wide Chesapeake

Shall resound to the banks of the Shannon.

WILL WATCH.

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WAS one morn when the wind from the

northward blew keenly, And sullenly roar’d the big waves of

the main, A famed smuggler, Will Watch, kiss'd his Sue, then

serenely

Took helm, and to sea boldly steer'd out again.

Will had promised his Sue that this trip, if well ended,

Should coil up his hopes and he'd anchor ashore; When his pockets were lined, why his life should be

mended; The laws he had broken he'd never break more.

His sea-boat was trim, made her port, took her

lading, Then Will stood for home, reach'd the offing, and

cried, This night, if I've luck, furls the sails of my trading,

In dock I can lay, serve a friend, too, beside. Will lay to till the night came on, darksome and

dreary, To crowd every sail, then, he piped up each hand, But a signal soon spied ('twas a prospect uncheery),

A signal that warn’d him to bear from the land.

The Philistines are out,” cried Will, “ we'll take

no heed on't; Attack'd, who's the man that will flinch from his

gun?

Should my head be blown off, I shall ne'er feel the

need on't, We'll fight while we can; when we can't, boys,

we'll run." Through the haze of the night a bright flash now

appearing, “Oh! oh!” cries Will Watch, “ the Philistines

bear down; Bear a hand, my tight lads, ere we think about

sheering, One broadside pour in, should we swim, boys, or

drown!

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