The canvass, in the gale to swell;

The ocean is no more my world;

Yet there Life's earliest years I fearless past,
A sea-boy on the high and giddy mast.

There oft, to cheer the midnight hour,
The helmsman, with a fancy free,
His ditty to the waves would pour,

Of love on shore, or storms at sea,-
And how the sea-boy, midst the rattling blast,
Keeps station on the high and giddy mast.

Dear were the sounds, tho' rude and hoarse,
Of helm a-lee, or helm a-weather,-
To steer the vessel to her course,

Or keep the sails well fill'd together;

While on the look-out far my eyes were cast,
A sea-boy on the high and giddy mast.

HOARE.

THE FAITH ON HER LIP.

CORRI, LONDON,

Sung by Mr Brabam.

BRAHAM.

THE shadows of eve 'gan to steal o'er the earth; To Eliza my heart I confess'd:

Love sanction'd the moment to Hope that gave birth; On her lip a soft kiss I impress'd.

I saw her warm cheek like Heaven's canopy glow,
When Aurora empurples the morn:

She loves me ;-oh! heav'n, let me never forego
The faith on her lip I have sworn.

This bosom, tho' fervid with youth and with health, In all else shall persuasion controul:

Bid me fly from the charm of ambition or wealth,
Or the joys of the bright sparkling bowl!

But Eliza, dear maid! till in earth I'm laid low,
In my heart shall her image be borne:

While she loves me, by heav'n! I will never forego
The faith on her lip I have sworn.

ANON.

THE ARETHUSA.

PRESTON, LONDON.

SHIELD

Sung by Mr Incledon.

COME, all ye jolly sailors bold,

Whose hearts are cast in Honour's mould,
While English glory I unfold,

Huzza to the Arethusa !

She is a frigate tight and brave,
As ever stemm'd the dashing wave:

Her men are staunch

To their fav'rite launch;

And when the foe shall meet our fire,
Sooner than strike, we'll all expire,
On board of the Arethusa !

'Twas with the spring fleet she went out, The English Channel to cruize about; When four French sail, in show so stout,

Bore down on the Arethusa!

The fam'd Belle-Poole straight a-head did lie;
The Arethusa seem'd to fly;

Not a sheet or a tack,

Or a brace, did she slack:

Tho' the Frenchmen laugh'd, and thought it stuff;
But they knew not the handful of men, how tough,
On board of the Arethusa!

On deck five hundred men did dance,
The stoutest they could find in France;
We with two hundred did advance,
On board of the Arethusa !

Our captain hail'd the Frenchmen, ho!
The Frenchmen they cry'd out, hallo!
Bear down, d'ye see,

To our admiral's lee!

No, no, says the Frenchmen, that can't be!
Then I must lug you along with me,
Says the saucy Arethusa !

The fight was off the Frenchmen's land;
We forc'd them back upon their strand,
For we fought till not a stick would stand
Of the gallant Arethusa !

And now we've driv'n the foe ashore,
Never to fight with Britons more!
Let each fill a glass

To his fav'rite lass!

A health to our captain and officers true,
And all that belong to the jovial crew,
On board of the Arethusa !

ANON.

KATE KEARNEY.

-GOULDING, LONDON.

Sung by Mr Incledon.

OH, did you not hear of Kate Kearney?
She lives on the banks of Killarney:

-DAVY

From the glance of her eye, shun danger, and fly,
For fatal's the glance of Kate Kearney.

For that eye is so modestly beaming,
You ne'er think of mischief she's dreaming;
Yet, oh! I can tell how fatal the spell
That lurks in the eye of Kate Kearney.

Oh, should you e'er meet this Kate Kearney,
Who lives on the banks of Killarney,
Beware of her smile, for many a wile
Lies hid in the smile of Kate Kearney.

Tho' she looks so bewitchingly simple,
Yet there's mischief in every dimple;
And who dares inhale her sighs' spicy gale,
Must die by the breath of Kate Kearney.

THE SHIP ON FIRE.

"ANONYMOUS.GOULDING, LONDON.

Sung by Mr Incledon.

MAZZINGHI.

FROM Plymouth, in the Vulcan, we set sail;
Three hundred was the number of our crew;

We left Old England with a fine brisk gale,
And, sighing, bade our girls a long adieu.
For five long months propitious prov'd the wind,
That swiftly bore us o'er the billowy main;
Thus all went cheerily, for Fate was kind;
Each thought to see his native land again.

Now mark the change-'Twas midnight, and the blast

In fury drove us o'er the foaming flood; With blackest horror was the sky o'ercast,

When, lo! the cry was heard that thrill'd our blood.

To work, all hands, to work; she's fir'd below!
Secure the gun-room, or we're blown on high!
Pour on yet faster,-let the torrents flow,—

For, sec, the curling flames mount to the sky!

Heave o'er the boat, the gallant captain cry'd; Let's save at least some sturdy hearts and true! The boat was hove, but danger all defy'd;

"Good captain, we'll not budge, but die with you!"

Then down we knelt, and pray'd to Heav'n for

grace

"Have mercy on us, since all hope is past!" Each rose, and gave his fellow one embrace, Then, plunging 'mid the billows, sought his last!

To splinters was the vessel instant blown;

The crash still added to the tempest's roar: I saw my messmates struggling, heard them groan,While, clinging to a plank, I gain'd the shore.