The warlike of the isles! the men of field and wave! Are not the rocks their funeral piles, the seas and

shores their grave? Stranger, go track the deep; free, free the white

sail spread, Wave may not foam, nor wild wind sweep where rest

not England's dead !


HEER up, cheer up, my mother dear,

Oh, why do you sit and weep ?
Do you think that He who guards me here

Forsakes me on the deep?
Let hope and faith illume the glance

That sees the bark set sail !
Look! look at her now, and see her dance:
Oh, why do you turn

pale ?
'Tis an English ship and an English crew,
So, mother, be proud of your boy in blue.

Oh, wonder not that next to thee

I love the galloping wave,
'Tis the first of coursers wild and free,

And only carries the brave:
It has borne me nigh to the dark lee shore,

But we struggled heart and hand;
And a fight with the sea in its angry roar

Shames all your strife on land.
The storm was long, but it found me true,
So, mother, be proud of your boy in blue.

And if the breakers kill our ship,

And your boy goes down in the foam,
Be sure the last breath on his lip,

Is a prayer for those at home.
But come, cheer up! methinks I heard

A voice in the anchor chain,
That whisper'd, like a fairy bird,

“ The bark will come back again.” God bless you, mother: adieu ! adieu ! But never weep for your boy in blue.


THE fight was o'er, and strew'd around,

Lay many a seaman brave;
And those who nobly died had found,

A deep unfathom'd grave;
One lingering lived, who vainly strove

The manly tear to hide;
A prayer be breathed to heaven above,

For her, his promised bride.

'Twas poor Tom Ratline wounded lay,

His life-blood ebbing fast, On her he loved, far, far away,

He felt he'd look'd his last. “ Shipmate,” said he, “ it is not dread

Of death which fills my eye; 'Tis mem'ry's dream of joys, though fled,

Which makes it sad to die.

“ If our good prize should pay us well,

Which I've no doubt she'll do,
Take all my share, and hark ye,

The rhino out to Sue:
Dry her sweet eyes, salt tears they'll pour

At poor Tom's fate,” he cried,
“ Say my last thought”-he could no more,

But whispering “ Susan,” died.



UR ship had struck soundings, and blithe

were our tars, As up channel for England she joyfully

bore; Though shatter'd her hull, we were proud of her scars,

And the riddled blue flag in the battle she wore. Each heart was elate, e'en the wounded forgot

All their pangs as their home they drew near; And the late sunken eye lighted up as the spot (Though distant) was seen, which we left with a


But where is the gallant, the brave, and the gay, Whom we hoped to have saved from the fate of

the slain? Alas ! he survived but to watch the last ray Of the sun's setting beams on the Queen of the His war-broken frame had with hope been sustain'


That the land he had bled for again he might see. “ Farewell, my loved country,” he faintly exclaim'd,

Then bow'd with submission to Heaven's decree. No ashes were strew'd o'er his watery grave,

We sounded no knell save the cannon's deep boom, But his bier was bedew'd with the tears of the brave,

Ere we launch'd him below to his dark ocean tomb. But rest, gallant spirit, though lonely thy bed;

Thy virtues in fondest remembrance we'll guard, And when the sea's summond to render its dead,

Aloft thou wilt rise to receive thy reward.



EHOLD! how changed is yonder ship,

The wreck of former pride;
Methinks I see her as of old,

The glory of the tide !

“ The Temeraire was the second ship in Nelson's line at the battle of Trafalgar, and having little provisions or water, she was what sailors call .flying light, so as to be able to keep pace with the fast-sailing • Victory." When the latter drew upon herself all the enemy's fire, the Temeraire tried to pass her, to take it in her stead, but Nelson himself hailed her to keep astern. The Temeraire cut away her studding-sails and held back, receiving the enemy's fire into her bows without returning a shot. Two hours later she came out with an enemy's seventy-four ship on either side of her, both her prizes, one lashed to her mainmast, and the other to her anchor.”- RUSKIN's Notes on the Turner Gallery.

As when she came to Nelson's aid

The battle's brunt to bear, And nobly sought to lead the van,

The brave old Temeraire.

When sailors speak of Trafalgar,

So famed for Nelson's fight, With pride they tell of her career,

Her onward course, her might; How, when the victory was won,

She shone triumphant there, With noble prize on either side,

The brave old Temeraire.

Our friends depart, and are forgot

As time rolls fleetly by ; In after years none, none are left

For them to heave a sigh; But hist'ry's page will ever mark

The glories she did share, And gild the sunset of her fate,

The brave old Temeraire.

« ForrigeFortsett »