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He took and drank damnation unto Maynard and his

crew,

To himself and generation luck, then the glass away he

threw.

Brave Maynard said he'd have him, tho' he'd cannons nine or ten:

Teach a broadside1 quickly gave him, killing sixteen valiant men.

Maynard boarded him, and to it they fell with sword and pistols too;

They had courage and did show it, killing of the pirate

crew:

Teach and Maynard on the quarter fought it out most manfully;

Maynard's sword 2 did cut him shorter-by his head he there did die.

Every sailor fought as long as he had power to wield his sword;

Not a coward was there there, sirs-fear was driven overboard.

Wounded men feli all about, sirs; 'twas a doleful sight to see:

Nothing could their courage hinder-oh, they fought couragiously!

When the bloody fight was over-we're told by a letter writ-

Teach's head was by a lanyard hung to Maynard's sloop's bowsprit :

3

Thus they sail'd back to Virginia; and when the tale was told,

How they kill'd the pirates many, they'd applause from young and old.

ANONYMOUS.

1 The fight was maintained so close inshore that every now and then one or other of the combatants was aground. This was on the following day. 2 The truth is that Maynard's sword broke, and Teach was in the act of cutting him down when a bluejacket half-severed his head with a cutlass. 3 One version has it "made a cover to the Jack staff of the ship," which was not true; such a vessel, if she had a Jack. staff (upright on the stern, to fly the Union Jack on, in harbour), would have one so small that a man's head would almost break it down. Except for the errors pointed out this account is practically true.

THE PRIVATEERSMAN'S LOVE-LETTER.

SUSAN, I this letter send thee,-
Let not sighs and tears attend thee.
We are off the coast of France,
Taking prizes from these nizeys,
My sweet jewel to advance.

Since old London we forsook

Five rich prizes have we took;
Two of them Nantz brandy-wine,2
Chests of money, my sweet honey,
And rich silks and satins fine.

The first merchant-ship we boarded—
Which great store of wealth afforded—
We fell on most eagerly;

Search'd and plunder'd, then it sunder'd,
Making chests and cabins fly.

Where the treasure was enclos'd
We were not the least oppos'd;

Rich embroider'd silks we found,

And more treasure, out of measure,
Worth nigh seven thousand pound.

Fortune she did still attend us,
And soon another booty send us,
Twice the worth of that one before;
Tho' we gain'd it and detain’d it,
Yet our guns were forced to roar.

While we did so charge and fire,
They endeavour'd to retire;

1 It would appear that this piece was written about the end of the seventeenth or the beginning of the eighteenth century. It is one of a number that touch on privateering, though it is very doubtful if any one of them was written by a seaman, or by any person with inside knowledge. As a general thing this is one of the best, which, to judge by its versification and language, did not come, as so many of the ballads of those days did, from an illiterate hand. 2 From this it seems that Nantes was then famous for its "brandy-wine," which, according to the rhymester, was of exceptional value.

But the contest was not long;

Then we enter'd,1 bravely ventur'd,
Yet receiv'd but little wrong.2

Love, we'll plunder French and Tory,3
For to raise Great Britain's glory,
And to pull proud Louis down;
Each great spirit then will merit
Double honour and renown.

Dearest, when I first did leave thee,
Parting with thy love so griev'd thee
That I vow'd I'd missives write

To improve thee, for I love thee
All the day and all the night.

Love, this promise is not broken:
Here I send to thee this token-

A rich chain and a diamond ring;

And ten times more I have in store,
Which I to thee in time will bring.

Like a lady thou shalt flourish;
Thy poor drooping heart I'll nourish,
And thy former joys restore,

Gold and treasure, love and pleasure,
If I live to come on shore.

Love, the world shall thee admire,
When it sees thy grand attire,
Like a blooming Lady Gay;

I declare it, thou shalt wear it,
And for it proud France shall pay.

Dearest, though we now are parted,
Still I am thine own true-hearted,
And prefer no one beside;

E'er before thee, I adore thee-
None but death shall us divide.

1 Boarded.

ANONYMOUS.

2 Damage. 3 Tories were then mostly Jacobites, therefore, to the common mind, in league with Louis and Catholicism.

THE SALCOMBE SEAMAN AND THE PROUD

PIRATE.1

A LOFTY ship from Salcombe came

Blow high, blow low, and so sail'd we :
She had golden trucks that shone like flame—
On the bonnie, bonnie coast of Barbary.

"Masthead, masthead!" is the captain's hail—
Blow high, blow low.

"Look out and about! D'ye see a sail?".
On the coast of Barbary.

"There's a ship a-looming straight ahead".
Blow high, blow low.

"Her colour's aloft and it blows out red "-
On the coast of Barbary.

"O ship ahoy! and where do you steer?".
Blow high, blow low.

"Are you a man-o'-war or a privateer? ".
On the coast of Barbary.

"I am neither the one nor the other," said she-
Blow high, blow low.

“But I'm a pirate out looking for my fee".
On the coast of Barbary.

"I am a jolly pirate, out for gold "

Blow high, blow low.

"I'll send my mate to rummage your hold

On the coast of Barbary.

Then the gruntling guns flash'd out and roar'd—
Blow high, blow low.

Till that pirate's masts went overboard

On the coast of Barbary.

1 This song-for as such it must have been written-and its forerunner, "The Saylor's Onely Delight," are particularly interesting on account of their similar construction to that of the "Chanties," which followed them. It appears to have been no more than a song.

Y

They fir'd round-shot till the pirate's deck-
Blow high, blow low.

Was blood and spars and broken wreck—
On the coast of Barbary.

"Oh, do not haul the red flag down! "Blow high, blow low.

"But keep all fast until we drown ". On the coast of Barbary.

They call'd for kegs of wine and drank-
Blow high, blow low.

They sang old songs until she sank—
On the coast of Barbary.

So let us brew long cans of flip-
Blow high, blow low;

And drain them all to that Salcombe ship—
On the coast of Barbary.

Ay, drain our cans to the lads of fame-
Blow high, blow low;

Who sank that pirate, to his shame—

On the coast of Barbary.

ANONYMOUS.

THE PIRATE.

O'ER the glad waters of the dark-blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free,
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam,
Survey our empire and behold our home!
These are our realms, no limit to our sway—
Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey.
Ours the wild life, in tumult still to range
From toil to rest, and joy in every change.
Oh! who can tell? Not thou, luxurious slave,
Whose soul would sicken o'er the heaving wave!
Not thou, vain lord of wantonness and ease!
Whose slumber soothes not, pleasure cannot please.
Oh! who can tell?-save he whose heart hath tried,
And danced in triumph o'er the waters wide;

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