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! THE BOY IN BLUE. HEER up, cheer up, my mother dear, Do you think that He who guards me here Let hope and faith illume the glance That sees the bark set sail! Look! look at her now, and see her dance: "Tis an English ship and an English crew, Oh, wonder not that next to thee I love the galloping wave, 'Tis the first of coursers wild and free, It has borne me nigh to the dark lee shore, And a fight with the sea in its angry roar The storm was long, but it found me true, And if the breakers kill our ship, THE SAILOR'S REQUEST. CAPT. WILLIS JOHNSON, R. N. HE fight was o'er, and strew'd around, And those who nobly died had found, One lingering lived, who vainly strove A prayer be breathed to heaven above, 'Twas poor Tom Ratline wounded lay, His life-blood ebbing fast, On her he loved, far, far away, "Tis mem'ry's dream of joys, though fled, "If our good prize should pay us well, Take all my share, and hark ye, tell Dry her sweet eyes, salt tears they'll pour At "Say my last thought"-he could no more, THE SAILOR'S FUNERAL. CAPT. WILLIS JOHNSON, R. N. UR ship had struck soundings, and blithe were our tars, As up channel for England she joyfully Though shatter'd her hull, we were proud of her scars, tear. 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 main. His war-broken frame had with hope been sustain'd, 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 summon'd to render its dead, Aloft thou wilt rise to receive thy reward. THE BRAVE OLD TEMERAIRE.* J. DUFF. EHOLD! how changed is yonder ship, 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 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 In after years none, none are left |