CHARLES DIBDIN, the son of a silversmith, at Southampton, was born in that town, in the year 1745. At an early age he ventured to try his fortune in the metropolis, where he at once set himself to compose songs and ballads; but was occupied chiefly in tuning piano-fortes. In 1762, he made his debût as an actor at the Richmond theatre; and two years afterwards appeared on the London boards, as Ralph, in the “Maid of the Mill." He soon began to write for the stage; and, it is said, produced above one hundred dramas, of various degrees of merit. The "Deserter," brought out in 1772; the "Waterman," in 1774; and the "Quaker," in 1775, are still occasionally performed. Dibdin, however, did not like his profession; and took the earliest opportunity of quitting it. He opened a kind of theatre, in Leicester Square, to which he gave the title of "Sans Souci ;" and had evening entertainments, at which he sung his own songs, and accompanied himself on the piano:-this simple design was amazingly successful. He is said to have written from time to time, during the period of the performances, above twelve hundred songs-to nearly all of which he composed the music. He died in indigent circumstances, in 1814.

In 1803, a pension of £200 a year was granted to Charles Dibdin after enjoying it for three years, a new administration, in order to display the economical principles upon which it designed to manage Great Britain, thought proper to deprive the aged vocalist of this resource. Other branches of his family have displayed talents of no common order; and have, we believe, also had to encounter adversity. As yet, we have manifested no desire to repay any portion of the large debt which is owing to him from a nation. The country has been recently called upon to grant annuities to professors of literature, whose claims are not half so urgent, or so just. We may hope that some part of the debt to Charles Dibdin will yet be discharged. In estimating his merit as a nautical song writer, we should not confine it to the mere gratification derived by the sailors themselves from singing his songs we find in the sentiments expressive of the character of seamen, so much kindliness of feeling, and a total absence of selfishness and worldly wisdom, that has tended in no small degree to raise sailors in the esteem of the country, and to render the maritime profession popular. This consideration, during a period

of protracted naval war, is essential, in order to arrive at a due estimate of the services conferred by Dibdin upon the State.

A sound critic, Mr. Hogarth, states that "Dibdin had hardly received any musical education; and his attainments in the art were so small, that he had not skill enough to put a good accompaniment to his own airs. But he possessed a gift which no education or study can bestow,-an inexhaustible vein of melody.” Among the hundreds of airs which he composed, it is wonderful to observe how few are bad, or even indifferent; and how free they are from sameness and repetition: and yet, with all this variety, there is no straining after novelty. The airs flow so naturally, that they appear to have cost him no sort of effort. In their expression, too, they are not less various than in their phrases. Whether the poetry is tender, lively, or energetic, the music never fails to speak a corresponding language.

If we try the poetry of Dibdin by a severe standard, it will undoubtedly be found wanting; but if it be a triumph of genius to achieve COMPLETELY the object desired, we must allot a high station to the most popular song-writer of the age. It is scarcely an exaggeration to say, that "a nation's ballads" have greater in. fluence on its people than "a nation's laws;" and it may be safely asserted, that the co-operation of Charles Dibdin has been largely effective in giving truth to the line,

"Britannia rules the waves."

His songs come home to the uneducated minds of seamen : they are simple in language, and homely in construction. Refined and embellished, their effect would be lost. That they have had a prodigious-almost a universal-influence over our mariners, is certain it has been as salutary as it is powerful. They teach that while courage is a noble quality, it is elevated into a virtue when exerted for our country; and that something more than brute force is necessary to make a good sailor. They not only inculcate bravery in battle, but patience under less exciting perils; and describe discipline and subordination as leading duties. They have been quoted with effect to suppress mutiny; they have, indeed, contributed largely to strengthen the great bulwarks of Britain-her "wooden walls"-to raise the character of her best defender-" the British tar"—and to establish that which is a substance, and not a sound-" British glory!"

DIBDIN.

I SAILED FROM THE DOWNS.

I SAILED from the Downs in the Nancy,
My jib how she smack'd through the breeze;
She's a vessel as tight, to my fancy,

As ever sail'd on the salt seas.

So, adieu! to the white cliffs of Britain,

Our girls, and our dear native shore; For if some hard rock we should split on, We shall never see them any more. But sailors were born for all weathers, Great guns let it blow high, blow low, Our duty keeps us to our tethers,

And where the gale drives we must go.

When we enter'd the gut of Gibraltar,
I verily thought she'd have sunk;
For the wind so began for to alter,

She yaw'd just as thof she was drunk.
The squall tore the mainsail to shivers,—
Helm a-weather, the hoarse boatswain cries;
Brace the foresail athwart, see she quivers,
As through the rude tempest she flies.

The storm came on thicker and faster,
As black just as pitch was the sky;

When truly a doleful disaster

Befell three poor sailors and I:

Ben Buntline, Sam Shroud, and Dick Handsail,
By a blast that came furious and hard,
Just while we were furling the mainsail,
Were every soul swept from the yard.

Poor Ben, Sam, and Dick cried Peccavi;
As for I, at the risk of my neck,

While they sunk down in peace to old Davy,
Caught a rope and so landed on deck:
Well, what would you have? we were stranded,
And out of a fine jolly crew

Of three hundred that sail'd, never landed
But I, and I think twenty-two.

After thus we at sea had miscarried,
Another guess-way sat the wind;
For to England I came and got married,
To a lass that was comely and kind:
But whether for joy or vexation,

We know not for what we were born;
Perhaps I may find a kind station,

Perhaps I may touch at Cape Horn. For sailors were born for all weathers, Great guns let it blow high, blow low, Our duty keeps us to our tethers,

And where the gale drives we must go.

TOM BOWLING.

HERE, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling,
The darling of our crew;

No more he'll hear the tempest howling,
For death has broach'd him to.

His form was of the manliest beauty,

His heart was kind and soft; Faithful below he did his duty, And now he's gone aloft.

Tom never from his word departed,
His virtues were so rare;

His friends were many, and true-hearted,
His Poll was kind and fair.

And then he'd sing so blithe and jolly,

Ah! many's the time and oft; But mirth is turn'd to melancholy, For Tom is gone aloft.

Yet shall poor Tom find pleasant weather,
When He who all commands

Shall give, to call life's crew together,
The word to pipe all hands.

Thus death, who kings and tars despatches,
In vain Tom's life has doff'd;

For though his body's under hatches,
His soul is gone aloft.

LOVELY NAN.

SWEET is the ship that under sail

Spreads her bosom to the gale:

Sweet, oh! sweet's the flowing can;

Sweet to poise the labouring oar,

That tugs us to our native shore,

When the boatswain pipes the barge to man: