MINUTE GUN AT SEA.

LET him who sighs in sadness here,
Rejoice and know a friend is near;
What heavenly sounds are those I hear?
What being comes the gloom to cheer?
When in the storm on Albion's coast,
The night-watch guards his weary post,
From thoughts of danger free;

He marks some vessel's dusky form,
And hears amid the howling storm,
The minute gun at sea.

Swift on the shore a hardy few,
The life-boat mann'd with a gallant
crew,

And dare the dang'rous wave; Through the wild surf, they cleave their way,

Lost in the foam nor know dismay,
For they go the crew to save.
But, oh, what raptures fill each breast,
Of the hapless crew of the ship dis
tress'd!

Then landed safe what joys to tell,
Of all the dangers that befel.
Then is heard no more,

By the watch on shore,

The minute gun at sea.

m

THE MERMAID.

ONE Friday morning we set sail,
It was not far from land,
Where I espied a fair mermaid
With a comb and glass in hand,
The stormy winds they did blow,
The raging winds do blow,

While we poor sailors go up to
the top

And the land lubbers down
below.

The boatswain at the helm stands,
Steering his course right well,
With tears a standing in his eyes,
Saying how the seas do swell.

Then up spoke a man of our gallant ship,

And a well spoken man was he,

I have married a wife in fair New York

town,

And this night she a widow will be.

Then up spoke a boy of our gallant ship,

And a well spoken boy was he,

I've a father and mother in fair Boston

town,

And this night they will weep for me

Then up spoke the captain of our gallant ship,

And a valiant man was he,

For the want of a long boat we all shall be drown'd,

And sink to the bottom of the sea.

Now the moun shone bright and the stars gave light

And my mother is looking for me, She may look, she may weep, with a watery eye,

She

may look to the bottom of the

sea.

Now three times around went our gallant ship,

And three times around went she, And three times around went our gallant ship,

When she sunk to the bottom of the

sea.

SLEEP BABY SLEEP.

"THEN Swift through the mists of the mournful night,

To a fisherman's dwelling I hasten'd my flight,

Where a mother was singing her infant to sleep,

Whilst the storm unabated swept over the deep."

Sleep, baby, sleep! cry not so loud,
For I would watch yon threat'ning
cloud

That flings its shadow o'er the sea,
And keeps thy father far from me.

The hour he nam'd, has long been past,
And storm. on storm is gathering fast:
Omens of evil fill my heart

And phantom forms before me start.
Sleep baby, sleep, &c.

Hush, baby, hush! is yon dim speck,
A fragment of some fearful wreck?
Oh! heav'n! thy father cannot be,
In that doom'd bark, in such a sea!
Sleep baby, sleep, &c.

The taper in the window seat,
Burns blue and bears a winding sheet,
And now the forked light'ning flies,
By that red flash a mortal dies!

Sleep, baby, sleep! 'tis almost day,
The howling wind has died away;
The light that glimmers o'er the sea,
May guide thy father back to me.

LOVE ON.

Love, love on, the soul must have a shrine,

The rudest breast must find some hallow'd spot.

The God who form'd us left no spark divine

In him who dwells in earth yet "loveth not."

Devotion's links compose a sacred chain,

Of holy brightness and unmeasured length,

The world with selfish rust, and reckless stain

May mar its beauty, but not touch

its strength.

Love on,