bered, in the author's defence, that intemperance at the time at which he wrote was a national vice-in which the noble and the educated indulged to as great an extent as the ignoble and the ignorant-that if common sailors drank, admirals did so likewise, and that both sailors and admirals were no worse than the general society-high and low-of their country. Dibdin, notwithstanding this fault of his age, has the most brilliant merits of his own. His songs invariably instil the sentiments of humanity, generosity, mercy, hospitality, truth, and kindliness of heart, a chivalrous though rough admiration for female virtue and loveliness, and a manly sincerity and independence of character. As Dibdin said of them himself, with honest pride, "His songs have been considered an object of national consequence; they have been the solace of sailors in long voyages, in storms, and in battle; and have been quoted in mutinies to the restoration of order and discipline." A few songs, appealing as strongly and as virtuously to the feelings of other classes of the people, would be a national benefit.

LUSTILY, lustily, lustily let us sail forth,

The wind trim doth serve us, it blows from the north.

All things we have ready and nothing we want
To furnish our ship that rideth hereby;
Victuals and weapons they be nothing scant,
Like worthy mariners ourselves we will try.
Lustily, lustily, &c.

Her flags be new trimmed, set flaunting aloft,

Our ship for swift swimming, oh! she doth excel; We fear no enemies, we have 'scaped them oft, Of all ships that swimmeth she beareth the bell. Lustily, lustily, &c.

And here is a master excelleth in skill,

And our master's mate he is not to seek; And here is a boatswain will do his good will, And here is a ship, boy, we never had leak. Lustily, lustily, &c.

If fortune then fail not, and our next voyage prove,
We will return merrily, and make good cheer,
And hold all together as friends link'd in love,
The cans shall be fill'd with wine, ale, and beer.
Lustily, lustily, &c.

THE MARINER'S GLEE.

From "Deuteromelia; or, the Second Part of Musick's Melodie," &c., 1609.

WE be three poor mariners,

Newly come from the seas;

We spend our lives in jeopardy,

While others live at ease.

Shall we go dance the round, a round,

Shall we go dance the round;

And he that is a bully boy,1

Come pledge me on the ground.

We care not for those martial men,
That do our states disdain;

But we care for those merchant men,
That do our states maintain.

To them we dance this round, a round,

To them we dance this round;

And he that is a bully boy,

Come pledge me on the ground.

1 A bully does not here mean a braggart, but a jolly fellow-one fond of fun and frolic. "What sayest thou, bully Bottom?"-Midsummer Night's Dream.

This and the preceding song are probably the earliest nautical songs in our language.

YE GENTLEMEN OF ENGLAND.

MARTYN PARKER.

YE gentlemen of England,

That live at home at ease,

Ah! little do you think upon

The dangers of the seas.

Give ear unto the mariners,

And they will plainly show

All the cares and the fears

When the stormy winds do blow.
When the stormy, &c.

If enemies oppose us

When England is at war
With any foreign nation,

We fear not wound or scar;
Our roaring guns shall teach 'em
Our valour for to know,
Whilst they reel on the keel,

And the stormy winds do blow.
And the stormy, &c.

Then courage, all brave mariners,
And never be dismay'd,
Whilst we have bold adventurers,
We ne'er shall want a trade:

Our merchants will employ us

To fetch them wealth, we know ;
Then be bold-work for gold,

When the stormy winds do blow.
When the stormy, &c.

There is a more modern and considerably extended version of this song.

The music

by Dr. Calcott.

TO ALL YOU LADIES NOW ON LAND.

The EARL OF DORSET, born 1637, died 1706.

To all you ladies now on land,

We men at sea indite;

But first would have you understand,
How hard it is to write:

The muses now, and Neptune, too,
We must implore to write to you.
With a fa, la, la, la, la.

For though the muses should prove kind,
And fill our empty brain;

Yet if rough Neptune rouse the wind,
To wave the azure main,

Our paper, pen, and ink, and we,
Roll up and down in ships at sea.
With a fa, la, la, la, la.

Then if we write not by each post,
Think not we are unkind;

Nor yet conclude our ships are lost
By Dutchmen or by wind:

Our tears we'll send a speedier way-
The tide shall bring them twice a day.
With a fa, la, la, la, la.

The king, with wonder and surprise,

Will swear the seas grow bold; Because the tides will higher rise

Than e'er they did of old:

But let him know it is our tears
Bring floods of grief to Whitehall-stairs.
With a fa, la, la, la, la.

Should foggy Opdam chance to know
Our sad and dismal story,
The Dutch would scorn so weak a foe,
And quit their fort at Goree:
For what resistance can they find

From men who've left their hearts behind?
With a fa, la, la, la, la.

Let wind and weather do its worst,

Be ye to us but kind;

Let Dutchmen vapour, Spaniards curse,
No sorrow shall we find:

'Tis then no matter how things go,

Or who's our friend, or who's our foe.
With a fa, la, la, la, la.

To pass our tedious hours away,

We throw a merry main, Or else at serious ombre play;

But why should we in vain,

Each other's ruin thus pursue?
We were undone when we left you.
With a fa, la, la, la, la.

But now our fears tempestuous grow,
And cast our hopes away;

Whilst you, regardless of our woe,
Sit careless at a play:

Perhaps permit some happier man
To kiss your hand or flirt your fan.
With a fa, la, la, la, la.