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THE SAILOR'S JOURNAL.

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Scarce the foul hurricane was clear'd,

Scarce winds and waves had ceased to rattle,
When a bold enemy appear'd,
And, dauntless, we prepared for battle.

while some loved friend or wife,
Like lightning rush'd on every fancy,
To Providence 1 trusted life,

Put up a prayer, and thought of Nancy!

And now,

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At last, - 'twas in the month of May,-

The crew, it being lovely weather,
At three A.m. discover'd day,

And England's chalky cliff's together.
At seven, up channel how we bore,

While hopes and fears rush'd on my fancy;
At twelve I gaily jump'd ashore,

And to my throbbing heart press'd Nancy !

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