And now 'tis to his ear conducted. "Zounds!" cried out Jack, "I know that phuBut then, such togs-they're all to pieces! Why, it can't be! my eyes it is "Tis Poll a-bawling water-cresses!" And now she's in his arms, while he And loads false friends, in troops, with curses. "They took," cried she, " my very bed; The sticks they seized, and sold in pieces; So, to get a bit of honest bread, I cries, who'll buy my water-cresses ?" "Still art thou rich, my girl," cried Jack, "And still shalt taste each earthly pleasure; Thou'rt true, though rags are on thy back, And honor, Poll's a noble treasure. In this gay tog-shop rigg'd so neat, Ill fortune from this moment ceases;" This said, he scattered in the street Basket, and rags, and water-cresses. NANCY. You ask how it comes that I sing about Nancy As well may you ask why delight fills the fancy Feel this, and you'll have of my joy a faint notion You and I nature's beauties have seen the world over, Then why should you wonder that I am no rover, Why, you'll find about ships all you've known and been hearing, On their different bearings to bring; Though they all make their ports, they all vary in steering, So do I when of Nancy I sing. Could a ship round the world, wind and weather permitting, The ocean's so spacious, 'twould never be hitting So her charms are so numerous, so various, so clever, That, my tongue once let loose, I could sing on for ever, Shall I tell you the secret? you've but to love truly, Own a heart in the right place that's hung; And just as the prow to the helm answers duly, No art do I boast of, no skill I inherit, But to love and to nature allow all the merit And I loves a warm heart, and a sweet honest mind, I read in a song about Wenus, I thinka, All rigged out with her Cupids and Graces: And how roses and lilies, carnations and pinks, Was made paint to daub over their faces. They that loves it may take all such art for their painsFor mine 'tis another guess fancy; Give me the rich health, flesh and blood, and blue veins, Why, I went to the play, where they talked well at least, Let 'em hang, drown, or starve, or take poison, d'ye see, Let the girls then, like so many Algerine Turks, With their jacks, and their pennants, and gingerbread works, All for show, and just nothing for value False colors throw out, decked by labor and art, To take of pert coxcombs the fancy; They are all for the person, I'm all for the heart- ANNA, ANNE, NAN, NANCE, OR NANCY, My love's a vessel trim and gay, Rigged out with truth and stored by honor; As through life's sea she cuts her way, All eyes with rapture gaze upon her: Built every wondering heart to please— The lucky shipwrights, Love and Fancy; From stem to stern she moves with ease, And at her launch they called her Nancy. When bearing up against life's gales, So well she stems the dangerous trouble, I call her Anna-as she sails, Her form's so grand, her air's so noble. When o'er the trembling wave she flies That plays and sports as she advances, Well said, my Nan! I fondly cries, As my full heart in concert dances. In studding-sails before life's breeze When laying on a tack so neat, The breeze her milk-white bosom filling, By whate'er name comes o'er my fancy; BROTHER JACK. Ir the good old maxim's true, That sons of Eve should all be brothers, Tars have it to their hearts in view, For their first good's the good of others; Nay, Jack such narrow love derides, 'Midst every danger still contented, He the whole family provides With every good that Heaven invented; And, leaving caution to the wind, Risks every chance to serve mankind. Away to India, cries the fair; To Beauty's voice obedient listen! The vessel cuts the yielding air, And muslins wave, and diamonds glisten; Should winter, in its bleak array, With chilling frosts and winds alarm her, Jack points the prow to Hudson's Bay, And comely furs both deck and varm hor; And, gayly leaving care behind, Ransacks the world to serve mankin Would cits the rich, voluptuous treat- Finery and fashions for our spouses, Then be the friendly toast we pass, As honest hearts and Nature's freemen— Excluding daylight from the glass Prosperity to English seamen ! For others make their lives a slavery; We owe to their adventurous bravery. Then drink to those, with grateful mind, Who risk their lives to serve mankind. THE MANES OF THE BRAVE. Now that war has, in human distress, done its best; Now that loud acclamations expand through the air, Proud award of those heroes for glory who burn, Surviving, or dying, such fame who achieve, Then our rapturous bosoms let gratitude swell, each grave, And dry up their tears for the manes of the brave. SAILOR'S JOURNAL. 'Twas post meridian, half past four, By signal I from Nancy parted, At six she lingered on the shore, With uplift hands and broken-hearted. At seven, while taughtening the forestay, And ba a long adieu to Nancy! Night came, and now eight bells had rung, I, little to their mirth inclined, While tender thoughts rushed on my fancy, And my warm sighs increased the wind, Looked on the moon, and thought of Nancy! Next morn a storm came on at four, At six the elements in motion Plunged me and three poor sailors more Headlong within the foaming ocean. Poor wretches! they soon found their graves: For me-it may be only fancy But love seemed to forbid the waves To snatch me from the arms of Nancy! Scarce the foul hurricane had cleared, Scarce winds and waves had ceased to rattle, When a bold enemy appeared, And, dauntless, we prepared for battle. And now, while some loved friend or wife Like lightning rushed on every fancy, To Providence I trusted life, Put up a prayer, and thought of Nancy! At last 'twas in the month of May- And England's chalky cliffs together. And to my throbbing heart pressed Nancy] THE NANCY. MAYHAP you have heard that as dear as their lives When Nancy my wife o'er the lawn scuds so neat Marvel not, then, to think of this joy of my life- As for Nancy my vessel, but see her in trim, When so sweet in the dance careless glides my heart's queen, She sets out, and sets in, far the best on the green; All hearts with such pilots must be at their ease; Then these hands from protecting them who shall debar BEN BLOCK. WOULD you hear a sad story of wo, That tears from a stone might provoke? 'Tis concerning a tar, you must know, As honest as e'er biscuit broke: The most true, the most kind, the most brave; But harsh-treated by fortune-for Ben In his prime found a watery grave. His place no one ever knew more; His nature had most of the dove. Sent him far from his love, where hard fate A curse on all slanderous tongues A false friend his mild nature abused, And sweet Kate of the vilest of wrongs To poison Ben's pleasure accused; That she never had been truly kind; That false were the tokens she gave; That she scorned him, and wished he might find, A loose to his sorrows he gave- THE LADY'S DIARY. LECTURED by Pa and Ma o'er night; And never listen to the fellows: I hate that woman-she sat next, All church-time, to sweet Captain Clackit Tuesday got scolded-did not care; Wednesday came down, no lark so gay; When, dearee, thou wert such another. Thursday fell sick :-poor soui, she'll die! Early next morn a nostrum came, Worth all their cordials, balms, and spices- Of a few clothes I made a packet, RATIONAL VANITY. MAN, poor forked animal, why art thou vain? Art vain of thy mind? still, the Deity there, 'Stead of virtue rewarding shall sanctify crime. While philanthropy gives disappointment to gain, Man, poor restless animal, why art thou vain ? Take the rational mean: If thou'rt proud of thy form, But let prudence the hand of benevolence guide. EACH HIS OWN PILOT. I was saying to Jack, as we talk'd t'other day That if people in life did not steer the right way, Now, when a man's caught by those mermaids the girls, He runs, while he's list'ning to their fal de rals, Thus in steering in life, as in steering with us, In foul winds, leaving luff and no near, keep her thus: When fair, keep her steady, And neither to starboard incline nor to port. If he's true in his dealings, life's wind to defy, And the helm has a trim and right scope, Not luffing, but keeping the ship full and by, He may weather the Cape of Good Hope. But if he steers wide in temptation's high sea, And to pleasure gives too much head way, Hard a-port goes the helm, the ship's brought by the lee, And she founders in Botany Bay. Thus in, &c. In wedlock so many wrong courses are made, Till so fond they are grown of that same Guinea-trade, They seldom or ever bear down for Cape Horn inous spirits that through the world roll, hould make No Man's Land, and skulk through Lubber's Hole, And at last be laid in the Red sea; at fine honest fellows, to honor so dear, Shall in this world by nothing perplexed, False Bay get to windward, bring up in Cape Clear, And bespeak a snug berth in the next. Thus in, &c. MOORINGS. I've heard," cried out one, "that you tars tack and tack, And at sea what strange hardships befell you; But I don't know what's mooring's." "What, don't you?" said Jack; "Man you ear-tackle, then, and I'll tell you :Suppose you'd a daughter quite beautiful grown, And, in spite of her prayers and implorings, Some scoundrel abused her, and you knocked him down, Why, d'ye see, he'd be safe at his moorings. "In life's voyage should you trust a false friend with the helm, The top-lifts of his heart all akimbo, A tempest of treachery your bark will o'erwhelm, But if his heart's timbers bear up against pelf, e'll for you keep a look-out the same as himself, "If wedlock's your port, and your mate, true and kind, A calm of contentment shall beam in your mind, But if some frisky skiff, crank at every joint, Shape your course how you will, still you'll make Cuckold's To lay up a beacon at moorings. "A glutton's safe moored, head and stern, by the gout, A drunkard's moored under the table, In straws drowning men will Hope's anchor find out, Thus mankind are a ship, life a boisterous main, THE LAST SHILLING. As pensive one night in my garret I sate, And cried, instantly speaking, or seeming to speak, I was once the last coin of the law a sad limb, A Jack Tar, all his rhino but me at an end, 'Twas the wife of his messmate, whose glistening eye With pleasure ran o'er as she viewed me; She changed me for bread as her child she heard cry, Where rakes, in their revels the piper to pay, Have spurned me, their best friend and last shilling. Though thyself hast been thoughtless, for profligates bail When my little history thou offerest for sale; I'll hoard thee in my heart :-thus men counsel refuse, 'Till the lecture comes from the last shilling. THE STANDING TOAST. [The last Song written by Mr. Dibdin.] THE moon on the ocean was dimmed by a ripple, The gay jolly tars passed the word for the tipple Some drank the king and his brave ships, And some the constitution, Some May our foes and all such rips Own English resolution! That fate might bless some Poll or Bess, And that they soon might hail her: But the standing toast, &c. Some drank our queen, and some our land, That beauty in distress might find SONGS IN THE ORIGIN OF NAVAL ARTILLERY. WHEN Vulcan forged the bolts of Jove He with them armed fair Freedom's hand, Long may she own the glorious right, May justice guide her aim! ALL'S WELL. BY T. DIBDIN. DESERTED by the waning moon, When skies proclaim night's cheerless noon, And should some footstep haply stray Where caution marks the guarded way: "Who goes there? Stranger, quickly tell!" "A friend !"-" The word ?"-" Good-night! All's well!" Or sailing on the midnight deep, When weary messmates soundly sleep, The careful watch patrols the deck, To guard the ship from foes or wreck, And while his thoughts oft homeward veer, WHO'LL SERVE? BY T. DIBDIN. "WHO'LL Serve with me ?" cried the sergeant aloud, Roll went the drum, and the fife played sweetly. "Here, master sergeant!" said I, from the crowd, "Is a lad who will answer your purpose completely." My father was a corporal, and well he knew his trade; Of women, wine, and gunpowder, he never was afraid. He'd march, fight, left! right! Front flank! centre rank! Storm the trenches, court the wenches, Died in glory, lives in story! And, like him, I found a soldier's life, if taken smooth and rough, A very merry, hey-down-derry, sort of life enough.” For a nimble-wristed round rattan the sergeant flourished proudly. My father died when corporal, but I ne'er turned my back, Spurred and booted, next recruited, Then began my rattan ! When boys unwilling came to drilling. Till made the colonel's orderly, then who but I so bluffy "Hey, for the pretty girls we all love dearly!" Scolding, sighing, children crying! Yet still a wedded life may prove, if taken smooth and |