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SONG XXXVI.

THE STORM,

BY MR. GEORGE ALEXANDER STEVENS.

CEASE, rude Boreas, blust'ring railer !
List

ye landsmen, all to me ! Messmates, hear a brother sailor

Sing the dangers of the sea :
From bounding billows, first in motion,

When the distant whirlwinds rise,
To the tempest-troubled ocean,

Where the seas contend with skies !

Hark! the boatswain hoarsely bawling,

* By topsail-sheets, and haulyards stand ; • Down top-gallants quick be hawling,

Down your stay-sails, hand, boys, hand ! Now it freshens, set the braces,

· The topsail-sheets now let go ; Luff, boys, luff! don't make wry faces,

Up your topsails nimbly clew.'

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Now all you on down-beds sporting,

Fondly lock'd in Beauty's arms ; Fresh enjoyments wanton courting,

Safe from all but love's alarms ; Round us roars the tempest louder ;

Think what fears our minds enthrall ; Harder yet, it yet blows harder,

Now again the boatswain calls !

• The top-sail yards point to the wind, boys,

See all clear to reef each course;
• Let the fore-sheet go, don't mind, boys,

Though the weather should be worse,
Fore and aft the sprit-sail yard get,

• Reef the mizen, see all clear ;
Hands

up, each preventure brace set, Man the fore-yard; cheer, lads, cheer!"

Now the dreadful thunder roaring,

Peal on peal contending clash;
On our heads fierce rain falls pouring,

In our eyes blue lightnings flash.
One wide water all around us,

All above us one black sky,
Different deaths at once surround us,

Hark! what means that dreadful cry?

• The foremast's gone (cries every tongue out)

• O’er the lee, twelve feet 'bove deck ; A leak beneath the chest-tree's sprung out,

• Call all hands to clear the wreck. Quick the lanyards cut to pieces,

Come, my hearts, be stout and bold; • Plumb the well—the leak increases,

Four feet water in the hold.'

While o'er the ship wild waves are beating,

We for wives or children mourn;
Alas ! from hence there's no retreating,

Alas ! to them there's no return.
Still the leak is gaining on us,

Both chain-pumps are chok'd below.
VOL.II.

L

Heav'n have mercy here upon us !.

For only that can save us now.

• O'er the lee-beam is the land, boys,

· Let the guns o’erboard be thrown;
* To the pump come ev'ry hand, boys,

See ! our mizen-mast is gone.
The leak we've found it cannot pour fast,

• We've lighten'd her a foot or more ;
Up, and rig a jury foremast,

She rights, she rights, boys, we're off shore."

Now once more on joys we're thinking,

Since kind Heav'n has sav'd our lives;
Come, the can, boys ! let's be drinking

To our sweethearts, and our wives.
Fill it up, about ship wheel it,

Close to our lips a brimmer join ;
Where's the tempest now, who feels it ?

None-the danger's drown'd in wine.

SONG XXXVII.

NEPTUNE'S RAGING FURY:

OR, THE

GALLANT SEAMEN'S SUFFERINGS.*

You gentlemen of England,

That live at home at ease,
Ah! little do

you
think

upon
The dangers of the seas :

• 'Being a relation of their perils and dangers, and of the extraordinary bazards they undergo in their noble adventures : together Give çar unto the mariners,

And they will plainly show
All the cares, and the fears,

When the stormy winds do blow.

All you that will be seamen,

Must bear a valiant heart,
For when you come upon the seas

You must not think to start;
Nor once to be faint-hearted,

In hail, rain, blow, or snow,
Nor to think for to shrink,

When the stormy winds do blow.

The bitter storms and tempests

Poor seamen do endure ;
Both day and night, with many a fright,

We seldom rest secure.
Our sleep it is disturbed

With visions strange to know,
And with dreams, on the streams,

When the stormy winds do blow.

1

In claps of roaring thunder,

Which darkness doth enforce,
We often find our ship to stray

Beyond our wonted course ; with their undaunted valour, and rare constancy in all their extremities : and the manner of their rejoycing on shore, at their return • home.' Title.

This is altered from an older ballad, written by Martin Parker ; an early printed copy of which, in black letter, under the title of “Saylors for my money,'

-' to the tune of the Joviall Cobler,'-—is in the Pepysian library, at Magdalen college, Cambridge.

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Which causeth great distractions,

And sinks our hearts full low; 'Tis in vain to complain,

When the stormy winds do blow.

Sometimes in Neptune's bosom

Our ship is tost in waves, And every man expecting

The sea to be their graves ; Then up aloft she mounteth,

And down again so low; 'Tis with waves, O with waves,

When the stormy winds do blow.

Then down again we fall to prayer,

With all our might and thought; When refuge all doth fail us,

'Tis that must bear us out : To God we call for succour,

For He it is we know,
That must aid us, and save us,

When the stormy winds do blow.

The lawyer and the usurer,

That sit in gowns of fur,
In closets warm can take no harm,

Abroad they need not stir ;
When winter fierce with cold doth pierce,

And beats with hail and snow, We are sure to endure,

When the stormy winds do blow.

We bring home costly merchandise,

And jewels of great price,

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