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At length the wish'd-for morrow
Broke thro' the hazy sky;
The dismal wreck to view,
As she lay,
In the bay of Biscay O!
Her pitchy seams are rent;
A sail in sight appears,
Now we sail,
From the bay of Biscay 0!
THE HEAVING OF THE LEAD. For England, when with fav’ring gale,
Our gallant ship up channel steer'd, And scudding under easy sail,
The high blue western land appear'd; To heave the lead the seaman sprung, And to the pilot cheerly sung,
By the deep nine !
Some well-known object kept in view, An abbey tow'r, a harbour fort,
Or beacon to the vessel true; While oft the lead the seaman flung, And to the pilot cheerly sung,
By the mark seven!
And, as the much-lov'd shore we near,
With transport we behold the roof, Where dwells a friend, or partner dear,
Of faith and love a matchless proof;
Quarter less five!
We shorten sail-she feels the tide-
The anchor's gone-we safely ride. The watch is set, and through the night, We hear the seaman, with delight,
FAIR MODEST FLOWER. TUNE_" Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon." FAIR modest flower, of matchless worth!
Thou sweet, enticing, bonny gem, Blest is the soil that gave thee birth,
And blest thine honour'd parent stem. But doubly blest shall be the youth,
To whom thy heaving bosom warms;
He'll clasp an angel in his arms.
And on his brow sat brooding care,
The darkest gloom of black despair. Sure Heaven hath granted thee to us,
And chose thee from the dwellers there, And sent thee from celestial bliss,
To show what all the Virtues are. *
* Written by Mr. William Reid, Glasgow.
THE BEAUTIFUL MAID. When absent from her, whom my soul holds most dear
What medley of passions invade!
I endure for my beautiful maid.
Or quit the gay throng for the shade;
When away from my beautiful maid.
YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND.
Who guard our native seas,
The battle and the breeze;
And match another foe,
While the stormy winds do blow,
And the stormy tempests blow.
Will start from every wave;
The ocean was their grave;
Your manly hearts will glow,
While the stormy winds, fc.
Britannia needs no bulwarks,
No towers along the steep;
Her home is on the deep :
She quells the floods below,
While the stormy winds, 8c.
The meteor-flag of England
Must yet terrific burn,
And the star of peace return,
The social can shall flow,
While the stormy winds did blow,
THE SPOTLESS MAID. The spotless maid is like the blooming rose, Which on its native stem unsully'd grows; But if some hand the tender stalk invades, Lost is its beauty, and its colour fades.
Whoever leaves a virtuous maid behind,
HOPE TOLD A FLATTERING TALE.
That joy would soon return;
For love is doom'd to mourn.
TOGETHER LET US RANGE THE FIELDS.
Impearld with the morning dew,
Or the apples clustering bough;
Impervious to the noontide ray,
We'll love the sultry hours away.
DEAREST ELLEN, I'LL LOVE YOU NO MORE. When the rose-bud of summer its beauties bestowing,
On winter's rude banks all its sweetness shall pour; And the sunshine of day in night's darkness be glowing,
Oh! then dearest Ellen, I'll love you no more. When of hope, the last spark which thy smile us’d to
cherish, In my bosom shall die, and its splendour be o'er; And the pulse of this heart which adores you shall perish,
Oh! then dearest Ellen, I'll love you no more.