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Believe not what the landsmen say,

Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind;
They tell thee sailors, when away,

In every port a mistress find;
Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so,
For thou art present wheresoe'er I go.”
The boatswain gave the dreadful word,

The sails their swelling bosom spread;
No longer she must stay on board,

They kiss’d, she sigh’d, he hung his head: Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land, “Adieu !" she cried, and wav'd her lily hand.

HEARTS OF OAK. DAVID GARRICK, born 1716, died 1779. The music by DR. ARNE. COME, cheer up, my lads! 'tis to glory we steer, To add something more to this wonderful year : To honour we call you,

not press you

like slaves; For who are so free as the sons of the waves ?

Hearts of oak are our ships,
Gallant tars are our men ;

We always are ready:

Steady, boys, steady!
We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again.
We ne'er see our foes but we wish them to stay ;
They never see us but they wish us away;
If they run, why, we follow, or run them ashore;
For if they won't fight us, we cannot do more.

Hearts of oak, &c.
They swear they'll invade us, these terrible foes !
They frighten our women, our children, and beaux :
But should their flat bottoms in darkness get o'er,
Still Britons they'll find to receive them on shore.

Hearts of oak, &c. Britannia triumphant, her ships sweep the sea; Her standard is Justice—her watchword, “Be free.!" Then cheer up, my lads ! with one heart let us sing, “Our soldiers, our sailors, our statesmen, and king.”

Hearts of oak, &c.


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His sword was in its sheath,

His fingers held the pen,
When Kempenfelt went down

With twice four hundred men.

Weigh the vessel up,

Once dreaded by our foes !
And mingle with our cup

The tear that England owes.
Her timbers yet are sound,

And she may float again,
Full charg'd with England's thunder,

And plough the distant main.
But Kempenfelt is gone,

His victories are o'er;
And he and his eight hundred

Shall plough the waves no more.

This song is usually sung to the air of Handell's "March in Scipio."


GBORG3 ALBIANDB3 STEVENS, died 1784. (Often attributed to FalconBB, the author

“The Shipwreck.”)

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 hauling;

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

Quick the top-sail-sheets let go :
Luff, boys, luff I don't make wry faces ;

Up your top-sails nimbly clew!"

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 fear our minds enthrals : Harder yet, it yet blows harder,—

Now again the boatswain calls :

“ The top-sail-yard 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 preventive brace set;

Man the fore-yard : cheer, lads, cheer!”

Now the dreadful thunder's 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 ev'ry 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 and 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: Heaven have mercy


upon 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 pumps call ev'ry hand, boys;

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

We've lighted her a foot or more
Up and rig a jury fore-mast :

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


Another stanza to this song appears in some collections, but we omit it, as not necessary to the completion of the story, and as quite unworthy of the sentiment which pervades the rest of the piece. According to some versions, the last line should read, "She rights ! she rights, boys! wear off shore." The original air of "The Storm” is “Welcome, brother debtor," to be found in " Calliope," collection of songs, 1730. The ballad of "Admiral Hosier's Ghost," is also sung to the same tune.


From the “Convivial Songster," 1782.

COME, bustle, bustle, drink about,

And let us merry be;
Our can is full, we'll see it out,
And then all hands to sea.
And a sailing we will go,


go, And a sailing we will go.

Fine miss at dancing school is taught

The minuet to tread ;
But we go better when we've brought
The fore-tack to cathead.

And a sailing, &c.

The jockey's call'd to horse, to horse,

And swiftly rides the race ;
But swifter far we shape our course
When we are giving chase.

And a sailing, &c.

When horns and shouts the forest rend,

The pack the huntsmen cheer,
As loud we holloa when we send
A broadside to Mounseer.

And a sailing, &c.

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