When any mournful tune you hear, As if it sigh'd with each man's care, Then think how often love we've made To you, when all those tunes were played, In justice you cannot refuse To think of our distress; All those designs are but to prove With a fa, la, la, la, la. And now we've told you all our loves, In hopes this declaration moves Let's hear of no inconstancy, We have too much of that at sea. With a fa, la, la, la, la. On the 2nd of January, 1665, Mr. Pepys went by appointment to dine with Lord Brouncker, at his house in the Piazza, Covent-garden He says, "I received much mirth with a ballad I brought with me, made from the seamen at sea to their ladies in town; saying Sir William Pen, Sir George Askue, and Sir George Lawson made it." In 1665, Lord Buckhurst, afterwards Earl of Dorset, attended the Duke of York as a volunteer in the Dutch war, and was in the battle of June 3, when eighteen Dutch ships were taken, fourteen others were destroyed, and Opdam, the Admiral, who engaged the Duke, was blown up beside him, with all his crew. On the day before the battle, he is said to have composed the celebrated song, "To all you ladies now on land," with equal tranquillity of mind and promptitude of wit. Seldom any splendid story is wholly true. I have heard, from the late Earl of Orrery, who was likely to have had good hereditary intelligence, that Lord Buckhurst had been a week employed upon it, and only re-touched or finished it on the memorable evening. But even this, whatever it may subtract from his facility, leaves him his courage.-Johnson's Lives of the Poets. BLACK-EYED SUSAN. JOHN GAY, born 1688, died 1732. ALL in the Downs the fleet was moor'd, When black-eyed Susan came on board, 66 O where shall I my true-love find? Tell me, ye jovial sailors tell me true, Does my sweet William sail among your crew?" William, who high upon the yard The cord flies swiftly through his glowing hands, "O Susan, Susan, lovely dear, My vows shall always true remain, Let me kiss off that falling tear, We only part to meet again; Change as ye list, ye winds, my heart shall be The faithful compass that still points to thee. Believe not what the landsmen say, Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind; They tell thee sailors, when away, In every port a mistress find; Yes, yes, believe them when they tell you so, The boatswain gave the dreadful word, They kissed, she sighed, he hung his head: Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land, Adieu! she cried, and waved her lily hand, HEARTS OF OAK. DAVID GARRICK, born 1716, died 1779. COME, cheer up, my lads! 'tis to glory we steer, To add something more to this wonderful year: To honour we call you, not press you like slaves, For who are so free as the sons of the waves? Hearts of oak are our ships, Gallant tars are our men, We always are ready: Steady, boys, steady! We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again, We ne'er see our foes but we wish them to stay; If they run, why, we follow, or run them ashore; They swear they'll invade us, these terrible foes! Britannia triumphant, her ships sweep the sea; THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE. WILLIAM COWPER, born 1731, died 1800. TOLL for the brave! The brave that are no more! All sunk beneath the wave, Fast by their native shore. Eight hundred of the brave, Whose courage well was tried, Had made the vessel heel, And laid her on her side. A land breeze shook the shrouds, Toll for the brave! Brave Kempenfelt is gone; It was not in the battle; No tempest gave the shock; She sprang no fatal leak; She ran upon no rock. His sword was in its sheath; With twice four hundred men. Weigh the vessel up, Once dreaded by our foes! And mingle with our cup The tear that England owes. Her timbers yet are sound, And she may float again, Full charged with England's thunder, And plough the distant main. But Kempenfelt is gone, His victories are o'er; And he and his eight hundred Shall plough the wave no more. THE STORM. GEORGE ALEXANDER SEEVENS, died 1784. (Often attributed to FALCONER the Author of "The Shipwreck.") CEASE rude Boreas, blust'ring railer! Where the seas contend with skies. Hark! the boatswain hoarsly bawling, "By topsail-sheets and haulyards stand!" "Down top-gallants quick be hawling," "Down your stay-sails, hand, boys, hand!" "Now it freshens, set the braces, Quick the top-sail-sheets let go ; Luff, boys, luff! don't make wry faces, Now all you on down beds sporting Safe from all but love's alarms: Harder yet, it yet blows harder. 66 Now again the boatswain calls. The top-sail yard point to the wind, boys; Let the fore-sheet go, don't mind, boys, Now the dreadful thunder's roaring, |