When sea and sky in midnight darkness join,
Still, still, he views the parting look she gave.

Her gentle spirit, lightly hovering o'er,
Attends his little bark from pole to pole,
And, when the beating billows round him roar,
Whispers sweet Hope to soothe his troubled soul.

SONG.

"Gentleman's Magazine," 1793. From the
"Midnight Wanderers."

YOU, whose lives on land are pass'd,
From dangerous seas, from rocks aloof,
Who, careless, listen to the blast,

Or beating rains upon the roof,

You little heed how seamen fare-
Condemn'd the angry storm to bear.

Sometimes, while breakers vex the tide,
He takes his station on the deck;
And now lash'd o'er the vessel's side,
He clears away the cumb'ring wreck;
Yet while the billows o'er him foam,
The ocean is his only home!

Still fresher blows the midnight gale!
"All hands reef topsails," are the cries;
And while the clouds the heavens veil,
Aloft, to reef the sail, he flies;
In storms so rending, doom'd to roam,
The ocean is the seaman's home.

THE BAY OF BISCAY.

ANDREW CHERRY. Music by JOHN DAVY.

OUD roar'd the dreadful thunder,

The rain in deluge showers; The clouds were rent asunder By lightning's vivid powers; The night both drear and dark; poor devoted bark,

Our

Till next day,

There she lay,

In the Bay of Biscay, O!

Now dash'd upon the billow,
Our op'ning timbers creak;
Each fears a wat❜ry pillow,
None stop the dreadful leak;
To cling to slipp❜ry shrouds
Each breathless seaman crowds.
As she lay,

Till the day,

In the Bay of Biscay, O!

At length the wish'd-for morrow
Broke through the hazy sky;
Absorb'd in silent sorrow
Each heaved a bitter sigh;
The dismal wreck to view,
Struck horror to the crew,
As she lay,

Her yielding timbers sever,
Her pitchy seams are rent;
When Heav'n, all bounteous ever,
Its boundless mercy sent.
A sail in sight appears,

We hail her with three cheers!
Now we sail,

With the gale,

From the Bay of Biscay, O!

THE SEA, THE SEA.

BARRY CORNWALL. Music by CHEVALIER NEUKOMM.

HE 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? what matter? I shall ride and sleep.

I love (oh, how I love!) to ride

On the fierce, foaming, bursting tide,
When every mad wave drowns the moon,
Or whistles aloft his tempest-tune,
And tells how goeth the world below,
And why the south-west blasts do blow!

I never was on the dull tame shore,
But I loved the great sea more and more,
And backward flew to her billowy breast,
Like a bird that seeketh her 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,

And the whale it whistled and the porpoise roll'd,
And the dolphins bared their backs of gold,
And never was heard such an outery wild,
As welcomed 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 power to range,
But never have sought or sighed for change,
And Death, whenever he comes to me,
Shall come on the wild unbounded Sea.

THE INSULTED SAILOR.

"Collection of New Songs," Newcastle. No date.

HEN my money was spent that I gain'd

in the wars,

And the world 'gan to frown on my

fate,

What matter'd my zeal and my honoured scars,
When indifference stood at the gate?

The face that would smile when my purse was well lined

Show'd a different aspect to me,

And when I could nought but ingratitude find,

I hied me again to the sea.

I thought it unwise to repine on my lot,
Or to bear with cold looks on the shore,
So I pack'd up the trifling remains I had got,
And a trifle, alas! was my store.

A handkerchief held all the treasure I had,
On a stick o'er my shoulder I threw,
Away then I trudged with a heart rather sad,
To join some ship's jovial crew.

The sea was less troubled by far than my mind,
And when the wide main I survey'd,

I could not help thinking the world was unkind,
And Fortune a slippery jade.

And I vow'd if once more I could take her in tow,
I would let these ungrateful ones see,

That the turbulent winds and the billows could show More kindness than they had for me.

STILL FROM CARE AND THINKING FREE.

HEN the anchor's weigh'd and the ship's unmoor'd,

And landsmen lag behind, sir,

The sailor joyful skips on board,
And swearing, prays for wind, sir.

U