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CAN WEALTH OR FRIENDS.
And can thy promise to be mine
If pity in thy bosom dwell,
My fears, my gentle fears dispel,
For my life would waste in grief, sweet maid!
How oft to meet thee in the grove,
When every word and look was love,
Thou bad'st me thy fond vows believe,
Deceive me not;
For my life would waste in grief, sweet maid! Like wounded flow'rets, droop and fade; Deceive me not my lovely maid.
Peaceful slumb'ring on the ocean,
The winds and waves in gentle motion,
Is the wind tempestuous blowing,
THE SAILOR'S CREED.
I'll tell you, my hearties, a sailor's plain creed,
Guides the helm, and directs every battle:
But, your colours once struck, you'd be otherwise thinking;
Jack's creed then gives heartfelt relief;
He believes 'tis his duty to save them from sinking,
To comfort his poor distressed messmates and friends,
And the girl that's faithful to his prize.
Thus manliness, merit, true friendship and love, All in that gallant sailors unite,
Who while doing duty below or above,
Are as ready to pardon as willing to fight.
BRITONS, UNITED, MUST PREVAIL. My ship's my house, my home, my land, My family not few
My children those whom I command,
For treasure, I've my seaman's love,
To venture forth, he may soon prove,
MARY, I BELIEVED THEE TRUE.
Mary, I believed thee true,
And was blest in thus believing; And now I mourn that e'er I knew A girl so fair and so deceiving.
Few have ever loved like me:
Oh! I have loved thee too sincerely! And few have e'er deceived like thee, Alas! deceived me too severely.
Fare thee well! yet think awhile
On one whose bosom bleeds to doubt thee; Who now would rather trust than smile,
And die with thee than live without thee.
Fare thee well! I'll think on thee,
Thou leav'st me many a bitter token; For see, distracting woman, see,
My peace is gone, my heart is broken.
THE MINUTE GUN.
When in the storm on Albion's coast,
Swift on the shore a hardy few
But oh! what rapture fills each breast
By the watch on the shore,
When first you courted me, I own
Each virtue then seem'd to adorn
But now the mask's thrown off, I scorn
To waste one thought on thee,
Oh! then for ever haste away,
Away from love and me;
For I'll reserve myself alone,
FRESH BLOWS THE GALE,
Fresh blows the gale, soon under weigh,
And lost it with a tearful eye;
Yet secret cry'd for pretty Polly.
Our little bark, by valour fraught,
And gain'd fresh courage at my gun, Sir! Our captain's praise unmov'd I heard, Thought all the victor's boast but folly! Then flew to shore to claim reward,
And heart for heart from pretty Polly.