Her dress were of the ocean green, She look'd-as siren ought to look But when he saw her lips apart, It chill'd him through and through. With either hand he stopp'd his ears, Alas, alas, for all his care, His doom, it seem'd, to die ! Her voice went ringing through his head, It was so sharp and high. He thrust his fingers further in At each unwilling ear, But still, in very spite of all, The words were plain and clear :"I can't stand here the whole day long, To hold your glass of beer!" With open'd mouth and open'd eyes," Nor waters oeean-green ! Literary Gazette. ON THE BATTLE OF NAVARINO. At length the strife is o'er At length young Greece is free,—— On the deeds of thy gallant sons, When Freedom spoke o'er the Pylian tide In the roll of thy naval guns! And, oh, Land of Albion think with woe Weave for Codrington the oak,— There's a wreath for those who die (Of immortal cypress twined) In the red embrace of victory They have left their fame behind! And the tears of Glory long shall tell Where the sons she loved for her birth-land fell! Shade of the Pylian Sage! Whose immemorial eye When the war-ships of the turban'd foe And of three-score sail the exploding roar Shook the blazing waves and the smoke pall'd shore? Call up a nobler shade— Let our own lost CANNING rise! Let him see the splendid tomb-gift laid His spirit has ruled afar, And pour'd on the decks of the faithless brave The storm of his country's war! Hush'd is the war-cloud's roar- The blood-dyed waters roll red no more- Oh, soon may the hand of peace And the Name of NAVARINO be THE MARINER'S SONG. BY JOHN IMLAH. Gaily we go oe'r the salt blue seas, As if with the wind contending; Our ship spreads white her snowy wing, Like another bird of ocean; J. And she shapes her way like a living thing Of graceful make and motion. Then speed thee! speed my home bound bark! - Still thy native harbour nearing; Soon the white-cliff'd isle shall the mariner mark, O'er the azure deep appearing. Yet no charms for me hath the fairest vale, Like the wilderness of waters ; When the vessel stoops to the freshning gale, And the spray around her scatters! Then may the hammock my death-bed be, AN EPIGRAM ON A SAILOR WHO WAS THROWN ON THE Spectators-cease your cruel glee, THE BARGE'S CREW. СНАР. 1. 'Tis sweet to poise the lab'ring oar That tugs us to our native shore, When the boatswain pipes the barge to man." Why, ay, Mr. What's-yourname, we were the pride of the ship -all picked men; and if you bad seen us in those days, when hope and enterprise spread our white canvass to the breeze, and we either luffed up to get to windward of the enemy, or sailed large to run down to the succour of a friend in distress, it would have done good to your heart, man. Then there was our barge, so neat and trim with her gratings in the bow, and stern sheets as white as the drifted snow, and every oar a perfect picture. But to see her under sail, with three lugs and a jib set, and the sheets trimmed aft-my eyes! how she'd, smack through the breeze, skimming the billow tops like a flying fish as he dips to wet his wings and refresh him in his flight! Oh, how sweetly she'd walk over the curling wave and climb the rolling [No. 13. . swell. Why, she could do any thing but speak, and every one of the crew loved her as his own, and tended her with the same affection that a fond mother would her darling child. But then, what's the use of specchifying about it now?--she's broke up by this time (though I'm glad I didn't see it, for every stroke of the axe would have gone to my heart); and of the jovial lads that once manned her, some are cast like weather beaten, shattered hulks, adrift upon the ocean of distress, exposed to the windy storm and tempest, without a port in view, or friendly bark to hail them in adversity. Ah, they think of the barge now, and on those times they will never see again, when they were called "the jolly coach horses" that ne flinched from their duty. Every was first captain of a gun; and а Coxswain, Joe Snatchblock, was one of the finest fellows in the fleet, be the other where he would-six feet two inches without his shoes heart like a prince, and the spirit of a lion-generous and brave. Why, and brave. Why, Lord love you, Mr. What's-yourname, he was the very man as nailed the colours to the mast, on board the in Duncan's action. I think I sees him now. Up went the helm, and away we bore down right into the thick of it: slap comes a shot athwart the halliards, and down rattles the ensign. "Hurrah!" shouted Mynheer, in exultation. "Dunder de bloxam," roared Joe, from the gangway; and, shaking his fist at the enemy, "Dunder de bloxam, but we'll give it you presently!" and then he ran aft, and, rolling up the flag, tucked it under his arm, and skimmed away aloft like a sky-rocket, while the musket balls came pouring round him in leaden showers. 66 Grape and canister to the five aftmost guns," cried the first lieutenant;" point them well at the enemy's poop-watch the roll, and be steady, my men!"-" Ay, ay, sir;" and we clapped the grapes into the still and pressed them down with canister, ramming all home with a vengeance. Rattle went a volley at Joe again, but we matched 'em for it in prime style; we smoked their manœuvres, and powdered their wigs. Yes, yes, our grape was squeezed into Win-de-grave for a good many-it damaged their upper works and knocked away their understandings. Well, d'ye see, by this time Joe had got to the main-top-mast head with the ensign under his arm, the hammer betwixt his teeth, and the nails in his pocket; so he shoves one through the head of the flag, just below the toggle, and drives it into the mast above the cross-trees. Down he comes about half-a-dozen rattlins, and in went another nail, and so on till he descends to the main-cap, where he took a severe turn with the tack, and hammered all fast. At this moment all hands at their quarters were casting one eye aloft and the other at their gun, like a crow peeping into a pitcher, or a goose at a thunder-cloud. “Huzza!" roared Joe, roared Joe, as he threw out the fly of the ensign, which, catching the breeze, waved majestically above us, floating in grandeur, like the Genius of Britain soaring on the wings of Victory. "Huzza," shouted Joe again, slueing his starn to the Dutchman, and slapping his hand in an inexpressible attitude, while they returned the salute with a round of musketry, that, had he not been bomb proof, must have knocked him off his perch. "Huzza!" responded the main and quarter decks; the lower deck caught the soul enlivening strain, and three hearty cheers resounded from all hands. At it we went again like fighting-cocks, for, d'ye see, we expected some of the right sort in the prizes-real right arnest Scheidam Ginever. At it we went, while Joe came sliding down the topmast back stay like a cat. " Weel behaved, my mon, weel behaved,” said the captain-he was a Scotchman, though his name was English. "Troth ye've the spirit of a Highlander. Bring the warthy soul a glass o' grog; or mayhap you would like it pure and uncontaminated." Joe preferred the stuff stark naked, with the jacket off, and, standing on the break of the poop, he held it up to mortify the Dutchmen; but, fearing an envious shot might crack the heart of his darling, he turned his back by way of protection, and stowed it away in his spirit room in an instant. Well, d'ye see, we lay close alongside, locked yard-arm, and yard arm, and hammered away round and grape, great guns and small arms, till Mynheer Van Scatterbrauckens dropped the tackle falls, mounted their pipes, and, thrusting their hands into the breeches pockets of their small clothes,showed they had surrendered. Ah, Duncan, was the boy! he was none of your butterfly gentry-only fit for a summer's cruise. He outWitted the whole of 'em, conquered Winter, and hoisted his ensign as the flag of liberty. Mayhap, Mr. What'syour-name, you never saw him, with his open manly countenance, expressive of true courage and benevolence, and his curling locks flowing gracefully over his head; "A furious lion in battle-so let him ; But, duty appeased, in mercy a lamb." Yes, he'd a heart that could feel for another; and there's not a tar in Greenwich moorings but reverences his name, for he was their father and their friend; but he's gone, as the chaplain used to tell us, he's gone the way of all flesh: and poor Joe too has lost the number of his mess. He was made a boatswain before his death, and then he got married; for he said a boatswain's warrant war'n't worth a rush without a parson's spliced to the end on't, and no boatswain could carry on duty without a mate. But, somehow or other, it proved a misfortunate appointment; for Mrs. Snatchblock, as soon as the commission was read, topp'd the officer over him, and wanted to be master. "No, no," says he," Mrs. S. every man to his station, and the cook by the main sheet. I've fought for my rating, and I'll keep it." But, bless your heart, what's the use of boasting when the ladies are determined to have their own way! why, d'ye see, she fought for it too; and as for rating, why she'd rate him all day long, till at last Joe poor gave in; and it was found one morning that he had died in his birth, without a friendly hand to close his sky-lights! I can remember him when he used to sit in the box abaft the skipper, smiling and happy, as long as he could see every one else so. After he left the he was coxswain to Tommy P, when he commanded the Le Juste, and was a great favourite with his captain. On the 4th of June, (that's the King's birth day-good old George that's dead and gone,)-all the senior officers of the fleet went ashore from Spit head, rigged out in full uniform to pay their respects to the Commanderin-Chief. The tide was ebbing strong out of Portsmouth harbour, and many of the boats landed their captains upon Sea Beach. Captain P was one of the number; and he and Joe made sail for the admiral's house, through the arched gateway under the ramparts. Well, just as they had hauled their wind round the corner by the Marine Barracks, an immense monster of a drayman, with a sack of wet grains on his shoulder, run designedly right aboard of the captain, and plastered his gold laced coat with sanctum smearem. was abominably provoking; and so Tommy hove-to, and remonstrated with the fellow on his brutality, but he only answered with a volley of curses and abuse. 'Up comes Joe, like a first-rate with a free sheet, lightens the gemman of his cargo, and capsizes him without so much as " This By your leave." Howsomever, up he roused again in a minute, and Joe stood all ready to strop a block with him; but "Hold, avast! cried P-, the quarrel's mine; I want no man to fight for me. As for you, y' unmanly scoundrel, I'll: but come along-come along ;" and so he cotched hold of his arm, and some of the marines of the other, and took him into the barrack-yard. And when the fellow found 'twas in earnest, he began to mumble excuses, like a witch saying her prayers. "No, no," says Tommy, you insulted me like a blackguard, and now you shall have blackguard's play for it." So he unbuckles his sword, and dowses his coat and hat, while the drayman stripped ship to bare poles. Joe claimed the honor of standing by his officer, and took his station second-him-heart-him, as they say in the classics; and a companion performed the same office for his opponent, who expected to make a mere play-thing of the captain, and displayed his two enormous fists, like a couple of sixty-ei pounders: but he little thoug he had to deal with. The first round the skipper made him hop; for though the brewer was by far the more powerful man, and showed ribs like a seventy-four, yet Tommy possessed science, and worked round him like a cooper round a cask, making his mash-tub rattle again. Round after round followed, to the great amusement of the Royals, and the headyfication of the brewer, who began to get all in a work, and couldn't give it vent. At last, in the fourteenth round, Tommy tapped him on the nose, and that was a cooler; one of his eyes was already bunged up); so he drew off and gave in, after being soundly thrashed to his heart's content. The captain clapped on his rigging again, and bore up for one of the officer's berths, where he got his forecastle swabbed and his gear refitted; and then off he set again, with a comely black eye, to wait upon the admiral. The tale was told, and orders about to be issued to apprehend the man; but captain P, who considered he had already received punishment enough, requested that he might be left to his own roomy-nations, and the cure of his bruises. But I have been spinning you a long yarn, Mr. What's-your-name, and all about nothing, for the Barge's Crew was what I meant to talk about. Ah! that's the subject nearest my heart; it connects all the remembrances of early life and old friends. Howsomever, I shall see you again, and then you shall have all their histories from beginning to end. Greenwich Hospital. Scylla. As the breadth across this celebrated strait has been so often disputed, I particularly state that the Faro Tower is exactly six thousand and forty-seven English yards from that classical bugbear, the Rock of Scylla, which, by poetical fiction, has been depicted in such terrific colours, and to describe the horrors of which Phalerion, a painter celebrated for his nervous representation of the awful and the tremendous, exerted his whole talent. But the flights of poetry can seldom bear to to be shackled by homely truth, and if we are to receive the fine imagery that places the summit of this rock in clouds brooding eternal mists and tempests-that represents it as inaccessible, even to a man provided with twenty hands and twenty feet, and immerses its base among ravenous sea-dogs; why not also receive the whole circle of mythological dogmas of Homer? who, though so frequently dragged forth as an authority in history, theology, surgery, and geography, ought in justice to be read only as a poet. In the writings of so exquisite a bard, we must not expect to find all his representations strictly confined to a mere accurate narration of facts. Moderns of intelligence, in visiting this spot, have gratified their imaginations, already heated by such descriptions as the escape of the Argonauts, and the disasters of Ulysses, with fancying it the scourge of seamen, and that, like in a gale, its caverns roar dogs;" but I, as a sailor, never per ceived any difference between the effect of the surges here, and on any other coast, yet I have frequently watched it closely in bad weather. It is now, as I presume it ever was, a common rock of bold approach, a little worn at its base, and surmounted by a castle, with a sandy bay on each side.---Smyth's Sicily. Charybdis. 66 Outside the tongue of land, or Braccio di St. Rainiere, that forms the harbour of Messina, lies the Galofaro, or celebrated vortex of Charybdis, which has, with more reason than Scylla, been clothed with terrors by the writers of antiquity. To the undecked boats of the Rhegians, Locrians, Zancleans, and Greeks, it must have been formidable; for, even in the present day, small craft |