But men must work, and women must weep, Three corpses lay out on the shining sands In the morning gleam as the tide went down, YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND. YE mariners of England! That guard our native seas; Whose flag has braved a thousand years The battle and the breeze; Your glorious standard launch again And sweep through the deep The spirits of your fathers C. Kingsley. Shall start from every wave! Britannia needs no bulwark, No towers along the steep; With thunders from her native oak, She quells the floods below. The meteor-flag of England Till danger's troubled night depart, When the storm hath ceased to blow; Campbell. HOW'S MY BOY. Ho, sailor of the sea! How's my boy-my boy? "What's your boy's name, good wife, And in what good ship sail'd he ?" My boy John He that went to sea What care I for the ship, sailor? You come back from sea And not know my John! I might as well have ask'd some landsman Yonder down in town. There's not an ass in all the parish How's my boy-my boy? Brass button or no, sailor, Anchor and crown or no! Sure his ship was the Jolly Briton— Speak low, woman, speak low!" And why should I speak low, sailor, STANDARD How's my boy-my boy? What care I for the ship, sailor, Be she afloat, or be she aground, Every man on board went down, How's my boy-my boy? NAPOLEON AND THE SAILOR. NAPOLEON'S banners at Boulogne They suffer'd him-I know not how- His eye, methinks, pursued the flight A stormy midnight watch, he thought, If but the storm his vessel brought To England nearer. At last, when care had banish'd sleep, He saw one morning-dreaming-doating, An empty hogshead from the deep Come shoreward floating. He hid it in a cave, and wrought Heaven help us! 'twas a thing beyond For ploughing in the salt sea-field, It would have made the boldest shudder; From neighbouring woods he interlaced But Frenchmen caught him on the beach With folded arms Napoleon stood, Serene alike in peace and danger; And in his wonted attitude Address'd the stranger: "Rash man that wouldst yon channel pass On twigs and staves so rudely fashion'd; Thy heart with some sweet British lass Must be impassion'd." "I have no sweetheart," said the lad; "But-absent long from one anotherGreat was the longing that I had To see my mother." "And so thou shalt," Napoleon said, 'Ye've both my favor fairly won; A noble mother must have bred So brave a son." He gave the tar a piece of gold, And with a flag of truce commanded He should be shipp'd to England Old, And safely landed. * Argo, argosie, fleet; (satirically spoken). "Thou say'st to me, 'Stand, stand up ;' I say to thee take hold, Lift me a little from the deck, My hands and feet are cold. There, take my love's gold handkerchief, "Now bring the chart, the doleful chart; The little anchor on the right, The great one on the left. |