But while the tide of life rolls on,
The mighty stream must flow;
Then blessings on the outward bound
Wherever they may go.
A blessing on the outward bound,
The noble and the true,
Who've wrestled long with poverty,
Which they shall conquer too.
The earth was made for man to share,
And worthy it are they,
Those brave and bold adventurers,
Our proud ships bear away.
To freedom and to sunny lands,
Still may the breezes blow;
May God protect the outward bound,
Wherever they may go!
THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME
Music at Davidson's.
THE hour was sad I left the maid,
A ling'ring farewell taking,
Her sighs and tears my steps delay'd,
I thought her heart was breaking;
In hurried words her name I bless'd,
I breathed the vows that bind me,
And to my heart in anguish press'd,
The girl I left behind me.
Then to the East we bore away
To win a name in story,
And there where dawns the sun of day,
There dawn'd our sun of glory.
Both blazed in noon on Alma's height,
Where in the post assign'd me,
I shared the glory of that fight,
Sweet girl I left behind me.
Full many a name our banners bore,
Of former deeds of daring;
But they were of the deeds of yore,
In which we had no sharing;
But now our laurels freshly won,
With the old ones shall entwined be,
Still worthy of our sires each son,
Sweet girl I left behind me.
The hope of final victory,
Within my bosom burning,
Is mingled with sweet thoughts of thee,
And of my glad returning.
But should I ne'er return again,
Still worth thy love thou'lt find me,
Dishonour's breath shall never stain
The name I leave behind me.
YEO HEAVE HO!
C. DIEDIN.-Music at Davidson's.
THE boatswain calls! the wind is fair:
The anchor heaving,
Our sweethearts leaving,
We to duty must repair,
Where our stations well we know. Cast off haulyards from the cleets! Stand by well! clear all the sheets! Come, my boys!
Your handspikes poise,
And give one general huzza!
Yet, sighing, as you pull away,
For the tears ashore that flow,
To the windlass let us go,
With Yeo heave ho!
The anchor coming now a-peak,
Lest the ship, striving,
Be on it driving,
That we the tap'ring ring-yards must seek,
And back the fore top-sail, well we know ;A pleasing duty! from aloft
We faintly see those charms, where oft,
When returning,
With passion burning,
We fondly gaze on eyes that seem,
In parting, with big tears to stream.
But come! lest ours as fast should flow,
To the windlass once more go,
With Yeo heave ho!
Now the ship is under way,
The breeze so willing,
The canvas filling,
The press'd triangle cracks the stay.
So taut to haul the sheet, we know.
And now in trim we gaily sail,--
The massy beam receives the gale;
While, freed from duty,
To his beauty,
Left on the less'ning shore afar,
A fervent sigh heaves ev'ry tar,
To thank those tears for him that flow,
That from his true love he should go,
With Yeo heave ho!
RED, WHITE, AND BLUE.
Music at Davidson's.
Он, Britannia! the Pride of the Ocean,
The home of the brave and the free,
The shrine of each patriot's devotion,
The world offers homage to thee.
At thy mandate heroes assemble,
When liberty's form stands in view,
Thy banners make tyrants to tremble,
When borne by the red, white, and blue.
When war spread its wide desolation,
And threaten'd the land to deform,
The ark of Freedom's foundation,
Britannia, rode safe through the storm;
With her garland of Victory round her,
So bravely she bore up her crew,
And her flag floated proudly before her,
The boast of the red, white, and blue.
The wine cup, the wine cup, bring hither,
And fill it up true to the brim,
May the wreath Nelson won never wither,
Nor the star of his glory grow dim.
May the service united ne'er sever,
But still to her colours prove true,
The Army and Navy for ever!
Three cheers for the red, white, and blue!
YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND.
THOMAS CAMPBELL.-Music at Z. T. Purday's.
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,
To match another foe!
And sweep through the deep,
While the stormy tempests blow;
While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy tempests blow.
The spirits of your fathers
Shall start from every wave!
For the deck it was their field of fame,
And ocean was their grave;
Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell,
Your manly hearts shall glow,
As ye sweep through the deep,
While the stormy tempests blow;
While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy tempests blow.
Britannia needs no bulwarks,
No towers along the steep;
Her march is o'er the mountain waves,
Her home is on the deep.
With thunders from her native oak,
She quells the floods below;
As they roar on the shore,
When the stormy tempests blow;
When the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy tempests blow.
The meteor-flag of England,
Shall yet terrific burn;
Till danger's troubled night depart,
And the star of peace return.
Then, then, ye ocean warriors!
Our song and feast shall flow
To the fame of your name,
When the storm has ceased to blow;
When the fiery fight is heard no more,
And the storm has ceased to blow.
THE BRITISH GRENADIERS.
Music at Cramer, Beale, and Chappell's.
SOME talk of Alexander,
And some of Hercules; Of Hector and Lysander,
And such great names as these; But of all the world's brave heroes, There's none that can compare, With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, Of the British Grenadier.
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