The timbers with the broadsides strain ;

The slippery decks send up a steam From hot and living blood, and high And shrill is lieard the death-pang cry.

The shredded limb, the splintered bone,

The unstiffened corpse, now block the way! Who now can hear the dying groan ?

The trumpet of the judgment-day, Had it pealed forth its mighty tone,

We should not then have heard, - to say Would be rank sin ; but this I tell, That could alone our madness quell.

Upon the forecastle I fought

As captain of the for’ad gun.
A scattering shot the carriage caught !

What mother then had known her son Of those who stood around ? — distraught,

And smeared with gore, about they run, Then fall, and writhe, and howling die ! But one escaped, – that one was I !

The blessed tear was on my cheek,

She smiled with that old smile I know: “Turn to me, mother, turn and speak,

Was on my quivering lips, when lo!
All vanished, and a dark, red streak

Glared wild and vivid from the foe,
That flashed upon the blood-stained water,
For fore and aft the flames had caught her.
She struck and hailed us. On us fast

All burning, helplessly, she came,
Near, and more near; and not a mast

Had we to help us from that flame. 'T was then the bravest stood aghast,

'T was then the wicked, on the name (With danger and with guilt appalled) Of God, too long neglected, called. The eddying flames with ravening tongue

Now on our ship's dark bulwarks dash, We almost touched, — when ocean rung

Down to its depths with one loud crash! In heaven's top vault one instant hung

The vast, intense, and blinding flash! Then all was darkness, stillness, dread, The wave moaned o'er the valiant dead. She's gone ! blown up! that gallant foe!

And though she left us in a plight, We floated still ; long were, I know,

And hard, the labors of that night
To clear the wreck. At length in tow

A frigate took us, when 't was light;
And soon an English port we gained,
A hulk all battered and blood-stained.
So many slain, — so many drowned !

I like not of that fight to tell.
Come, let the cheerful grog go round !

Messmates, I've done. A spell, ho! spell, – Though a pressed man, I'll still be found

To do a seaman's duty well.
I wish our brother landsmen knew
One half we jolly tars go through.

Night darkened round, and the storm pealed;

To windward of us lay the foe.
As he to leeward over keeled,

He could not fight his guns below;
So just was going to strike, - when reeled

Our vessel, as if some vast blow
From an Almighty hand had rent
The huge ship from her element.

Then howled the thunder. Tumult then

Had stunned herself to silence. Round Were scattered lightning-blasted men !

Our mainmast went. All stifled, drowned, Arose the Frenchman's shout. Again

The bolt burst on us, and we found
Our masts all gone, - our decks all riven :

Man's war mocks faintly that of heaven!

AXONYMOUS

Just then, — nay, messmates, laugh not now,

As I, amazel, one minute stood Amidst that rout, — I know not how,

'T was silence all, — the raving food, The guns that pealed from stem to low,

And God's own thuniler, -- nothing could I then of all that tumult hcar,

Or sec aught of that scene of fear,

THE SAILOR'S WIFE.

My ageal mother at her door

Sat mililly o'er her humming wheel ; The cottage, orchard, and the moor,

I saw them plainly all. I'll kneel, And swear I saw them! O, they wore

A look all peace ? Could I but feel Agnin that bliss that then I felt, That made my heart, like childhood's, melt !

And are ye sure the news is true ?

And are ye sure he's weel? Is this a time to think o' wark !

Ye jades, lay by your wheel, Is this the time to spin a thread,

When Colin's at the door ? Reach down my cloak, I 'll to the quay,

And see him come ashore.
For there 's nae luck about the house,

There 's nac luck at a';
There's little pleasure in the house

When our gudeman 's awa'.

And gie to me my bigonet,

My bishop's satin gown ; For I maun tell the baillie's wife

That Colin 's in the town. My Turkey slippers maun gae on,

My stockin's pearly blue ; It 's a' to pleasure our gudeman,

For he's baith leal and true.

We all know Sir Sidney, a man of such kidney,
He'd fight every foe he could meet ;
Give him one ship fortwo, and without more ado,
He'd engage if he met a whole fleet, he would,
He'd engage if he met a whole fleet.

Thus he took, every day, all that came in his way,
Till fortune, that changeable elf,
Ordered accidents so, that while taking the foe,
Sir Sidney got taken himself, he did,
Sir Sidney got taken himself.

His captors, right glad of the prize they now had,
Rejected each offer we bid,
And swore he should stay locked up till doomsday ;
But he swore he'd be dd if he did, he did,
But he swore he'd be hanged if he did.

Rise, lass, and mak a clean fireside,

Put on the muckle pot ;
Gie little Kate her button gown,

And Jock his Sunday coat ;
And mak their shoon as black as slaes,

Their hose as white as snaw; It's a' to please my ain gudeman,

For he's been long awa'. There's twa fat hens upo' the coop

Been fed this month and mair ;
Mak haste and thraw their necks about,

That Colin weel may fare ;
And spread the table neat and clean,

Gar ilka thing look braw,
For wha can tell how Colin fared

When he was far awa'?

So Sir Sid got away, and his jailer next day
Cried, “Sacre, diable, morbleu,
Mon prisonnier 'scape ; I ’ave got in von scrape,
And I fear I must run away too, I must,
I fear I must run away too !"

If Sir Sidney was wrong, why then black ball my

song, E'en his foes he would scorn to deceive; His escape was but just, and confess it you must, For it only was taking French leave, you know, It only was taking French leave.

CHARLES DIBDIN.

NAPOLEON AND THE BRITISH SAILOR.

Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech,

His breath like caller air ; His very foot has music in 't

As he comes up the stair,
And will I see his face again ?

And will I hear him speak ?
I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought,

In troth I 'm like to greet !
If Colin 's weel, and weel content,

I hae nae mair to crave :
And gin I live to keep him sae

I'm blest aboon the lave :
And will I see his face again :

And will I hear him speak ?
I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought,

In troth I 'm like to greet.
For there 's nae luck about the house,

There 's nae luck at a';
There 's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman 's awa'.

W. J. MICKLE.

I LOVE contemplating - apart

From all his homicidal glory The traits that soften to our heart

Napoleon's glory!

'T was when his banners at Boulogne

Armed in our island every freeman, His navy chanced to capture one

Poor British seaman.

They suffered him I know not how

Unprisoned on the shore to roam ; And aye was bent his longing brow

On England's home.

SIR SIDNEY SMITH.

His eye, methinks ! pursued the flight

Of birds to Britain half-way over ; With envy they could reach the white

Dear cliffs of Dover.

GENTLEFOLKS, in my time, I've made many a

rhyme, But the song I now trouble you with, Lays some claim to applause, and you 'll grant

it, because The subject 's Sir Sidney Smith, it is ; The subject 's Sir Sidney Smith.

A stormy midnight watch, he thought,

Than this sojourn would have been dearer, If but the storin his vessel brought

To England nearer.

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 ship sailed he ?"

“My boy John
He that went to sea —
What care I for the ship, sailor.
My boy's my boy to me.

“You come back from sea,
And not know my John ?
I might as well have asked some landsman,
Yonder down in the town.
There's not an ass in all the parish
But knows my John.

“How's my boy — my boy?
And unless you let me know,
I'll swear you are no sailor,
Blue jacket or no,
Brass buttons 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, About my own boy John ? If I was loud as I am proud I'd sing him over the town ! Why should I speak low, sailor ?” “That good ship went down."

“How 's my boy — my boy?
What care I for the ship, sailor!
I was never aboard her.
Be she afloat or be she aground,
Sinking or swimming, I'll be bound
Her owners can afford her!
I say, how's my John ?”

Every man on board went down, Every man aboard her."