Your merry mates cheer, with a lusty bold spright, Now each man his brendice, and then to the fight, St. George, St. George, we cry,

The shouting Turks reply.

Oh, now it begins and the gun-room grows hot,
Ply it with culverin and with small shot.

Hark! does it not thunder? No, 'tis the gun's roar,
The neighbouring billows are turn'd into gore,
Now each man must resolve to die,

For here the cowards cannot fly.
Drums and trumpets toll the knell,
And culverins the passing bell.

Now, now they grapple, and now board amain,
Blow up the hatches, they're off all again;
Give them a broadside, the dice run at all,
Down comes the mast and yard, and tacklings fall;
She grows giddy now, like blind fortune's wheel,
She sinks there, she sinks, she turns up her keel.
Who ever beheld so noble a sight,
As this, so brave, so bloody sea-fight?

COME IF YOU DARE.

From "King Arthur." DRYDEN.

JOME, if you dare, our trumpets sound;
Come, if you dare, the foes rebound;
We come, we come, we come, we come,
Says the double, double, double beat of
the thundering drum.

Now they charge on amain,
Now they rally again;

The gods from above the mad labour behold,
And pity mankind that will perish for gold.

The fainting Saxons quit their ground,
Their trumpets languish in the sound;
They fly, they fly, they fly, they fly;
Victoria, Victoria, the bold Britons cry.
Now the victory's won,

To the plunder we run;

We return to our lasses like fortunate traders, Triumphant with spoils of the vanquish'd invaders.

JACK ANCHOR.

EDWARD FARMER.

JACK ANCHOR was leaving to plough the

salt wave,

Not a soul 'mong his messmates more

gallant, more brave;

And he stepp'd in the boat as they pull'd from the shore,

To go where guns rattle, and loud cannons roar. And he went with a smile, not a tear dimm'd his eye, Though his Poll and his little ones were standing close by

"For my Queen," said bold Jack, "I will peril my life,

For I know they'll take care of my children and wife."

Once more, to his friends upon shore, waved his

hand,

And departed to fight for his dear native land.

The vessel he sail'd in has vanish'd from sight,
He has gone in the cause of the injured to fight;
And 'tis ours while he's absent in danger's career,
To help and to comfort those Jack holds so dear,
Then from highest to lowest let each gen'rous heart,
In this good work before us take kindly a part.
Then up and be doing, the dark hour is come,
Our warriors are summon'd by trumpet and drum;
And while soldiers and sailors for us risk their lives,
Be it ours to take care of their children and wives.

HURRAH FOR ENGLAND!

LD England is our home,

And Englishmen are we;

Our tongue is known in ev'ry clime,
Our flag in ev'ry sea.

We will not say that we alone

The right of freedom know,

There's many a land that's free beside,

But England made it so.

The thunder of her battle ships

Was heard on many a shore,

But her healing words of peace was heard
Above the cannon's roar.

Then let us shout for England,

The world-beloved England!

Let every true man shout with us,
Hurrah, hurrah, for England!

Mothers and wives of England,
Be to your birthright true;
The welfare of the peopled earth
Is given by God to you;

Ye bear no common sons!

The child who on your breast doth lie,
Though born within a peasant's shed,
Is meant for doings high.
And let each child of England
Rejoice that it has birth,
For who is born of English blood
Is powerful of the earth.

Then let us shout for England!

And the great, good hearts of England!
Let wives and children shout with us,
Hurrah, hurrah, for England!

FAR, FAR UPON THE SEA.

AR, far upon the sea,

The good ship speeding free,

Upon the deck we gather, young and old,

And view the flapping sail

Swelling out before the gale,

Full and round without a wrinkle or a fold.
Or watch the waves that glide,

By the vessel's stately side,

Or the wild sea-birds that follow through the air; Or gather in a ring,

And with cheerful voices sing,

Oh! gaily goes the ship when the wind blows fair.

Far, far upon the sea,

With the sunshine on our lee,

We talk of pleasant days when we were young, And remember, though we roam,

The sweet melodies of home,

The happy songs of childhood which we sung;
And though we quit her shore,
To return to it no more,

Sound the glories that Britannia yet shall bear,
That "Britons rule the waves,

And never shall be slaves"

Oh! gaily goes the ship when the wind blows fair.
Far, far upon the sea,
Whate'er our country be,

The thought of it shall cheer us as we go,
And Scotland's sons shall join,

"In the days of auld lang syne,"

With voice by memory soften'd clear and low;
And the men of Erin's Isle,

Battling sorrow with a smile,

Shall sing "St. Patrick's Morning," void of care, And thus we pass the day,

As we journey on our way

Oh! gaily goes the ship when the wind blows fair.

THE ALBION.

THOMAS DIBDIN.

HE Albion is a noble ship,
Her colours are true blue;
Her hull is royal heart of oak,
And heart of oak her crew;