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Unless some kind, some pitying Power

Should interpose,
She labours so, within this hour

Down she goes!

Bnt see on rosy pinions borne,

O’er the mad deep,
Reluctant beams the sorrowing morn,

With us to weep.
Deceitful sorrow, cheerless light-

Dreadful to think-
The morn is risen, in endless night

Our hopes to sink !
She splits ! she parts !-through sluices driven

The water flows !
Adieu, ye friends ! have mercy, Heaven !

For down she goes.

CONSTANCY.

HE surge hoarsely murm'ring, young

Fanny's grief mocking,
The spray rudely dashing as salt as

her tears;
The ship’s in the offing, perpetually rocking, -

Too faithful a type of her hopes and her fears. 'Twas here, she cried out, that Jack's vows were so

many, Here I bitterly wept, and I bitterly weep; Here heart-whole he swore to return to his Fanny,

Near the trembling pine that nods over the deep. Ah! mock not my troubles, ye pitiless breakers ;

Ye winds, do not thus melt my heart with alarms; He is your pride and mine, in my grief then partakers,

My sailor in safety waft back to my arms. They are deaf and ungrateful: these woes are too

many; Here, here will I die, where I bitterly weep: Some true lover shall write the sad fate of poor Fanny,

On the trembling pine that hangs over the deep.

Thus her heart sadly torn with its wild perturbation,

No friend but her sorrow, no hope but the grave; Led on by her grief to the last desperation,

She ran to the cliff, and plunged into the wave. A tar saved her life—the fond tale shall please many; Who before wept her fate, now no longer shall

weep; 'Twas her Jack, who, returning, had sought out his

Fanny, Near the trembling pine that hangs over the deep.

TACK AND HALF-TACK.

HE Yarmouth roads are right a-head,

The crew with ardour burning,
Jack sings out as he heaves the lead,

On tack and half-tack turning,
By the dip eleven!
Lash'd in the chains, the line he coils,

Then round his head ’tis swinging ;
And thus to make the land he toils,

In numbers quaintly singing,

By the mark seven! And now,

lest we run bump ashore, He heaves the lead and sings once more,

Quarter less four ! About ship, lads, tumble up there, can't you see? Stand by, well; hark, hark; helm's a-lee ! Here she comes, up tacks and sheets, haul, mainsa il

haul,

Haul off, all !
And as the long-lost shore they view,
Exulting shout the happy crew;
Each singing, as the sail he furls,
Hey for the fiddles and the gitls.

The next tack we run out to sea,

Old England scarce appearing ;
Again we tack, and Jack with glee
Sings out, as land we're nearing,

By the dip eleven!
And as they name some beauty dear,

To tars of bliss the summit,
Jack joins the jest, the jibe, the jeer,
And heaves the ponderous plummet:

By the mark seven !
And now while dangerous breakers roar,
Jack cries, lest we run bump ashore,

Quarter less four!
About ship, lads, tumble up there, can't
Stand by, well; hark, hark; helm's a-lee !
Here she comes, up tacks and sheets, haul, mainsail

haul,

Haul off, all !
And as the long-lost shore, &c.

you see?

Thus tars at sea, like swabs at home,

By tack and tack.are biass'd,
The furthest way about we roam,
To bring us home the nighest;

By the dip eleven!
For one tack more, and 'fore the wind,

Shall we in a few glasses,
Now make the land both true and kind,
To find our friends and lasses :

By the mark seven !
Then heave the lead, my lad, once more,
Soon shall we gaily tread the shore,

And a half four!
About ship, lads, tumble

up there, can't Stand by, well; hark, hark; helm's a-lee ! Here she comes, up tacks and sheets, haul, mainsail

haul,

Overhaul all !
And as the long-lost shore, &c.

you see?

BLEAK WAS THE MORN.

SB

LEAK was the morn when William left

his Nancy,
The fleecy snow frown'd on the

whiten'd shore,
Cold as the fears that chill'd her dreary fancy,

While she her sailor from her bosom tore: To his fill'd heart a little Nancy pressing,

While a young tar the ample trousers eyed, In need of firmness in this state distressing,

Will check'd the rising sigh, and fondly cried,

F

Ne'er fear the perils of the fickle ocean,
Sorrow's all a notion,

Grief all in vain;
Sweet love, take heart,
For we but part

In joy to meet again.
Loud blew the wind, when, leaning on that willow

Where the dear name of honest William stood, Poor Nancy saw, toss’d by a faithless billow,

A ship dash'd’gainst a rock that topp'd the flood : Her tender heart with frantic sorrow thrilling,

Wild as the storm that howlid along the shore,
No longer could resist a stroke so killing,
'Tis he, she cried, nor shall I see him more.

Why did he ever trust the fickle ocean?
Sorrow's all my portion,

Misery and pain !
Break my poor heart,
For now we part

Never to meet again.
Mild was the eve, all nature was a-smiling

Four tedious years had Nancy pass’d in grief,
When, with her children the sad hours beguiling,

She saw her William fly to her relief!
Sunk in his arms with bliss he quickly found her,
But soon return'd to life, to love, and joy,
While her grown young ones anxiously surround her,
And now Will clasps his girl and now his boy.

Did I not say, though 'tis a fickle ocean,
Sorrow's all a notion,

Grief all in vain ?
My joy how sweet!
For now we meet

Never to part again!

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