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From the main-deck to the quarter, • Strew'd with limbs, and wet with blood, Poor Tom Halliard, pale and wounded,
Crawl'd where his brave captain stood. “ O my noble captain, tell me,
Ere I'm borne a corpse away; Have I done a sean.an's duty,
On this great, this glorious day? • Tell a dying sailor truly,
For my life is fleeting fast, Have I done a sailor's duty,
Can they aught my mem’ry blast?” “ Ah! brave Tom," replied the captain,
“ Thou a sailor's part hast done, I revere thy wounds with sorrow
Wounds by which our glory's won.” “ Thanks, my captain, life is ebbing
Fast from this deep wounded heart, Yet, 0! grant me little favor
Ere I from this world depart: Bid some kind and trusty sailor,
When I'm number'd with the dead, For my true and constant Cath'rine,
Cut a lock from this poor head. “ Bid him to my Cath'rine bear it,
Saying, her's alone I die;
And ernbalm it with a sigh.
Which I've penn'd with parting breath, Kate will ponder on the writing,
When the hand is cold in death." “That I will,” replied the captain,
“ And be ever Cath'rine's friend;"4
“ Thanks, my good, my great commander
Now my pains, my sorrows end." Mute towards the captain weeping,
Tom upraised a thankful eye; Grateful then his feet embracing,
Sunk with “ Kate" on his last sigh. Who, that saw a scene so mournful,
Could without a tear depart?
Pity never warm'd his heart.
By the kind and pensive crew;
All sigh'd out “ Poor Tom, adieu.”
THE PIRATE LOVER.
Thou lord of the sea!
That bound me to thee;
Tho' dearest thou wert,
Thou lord of my heart.
To hate thee and live,
My country can give;
In plunder and gore,
In fondness no more.
Thy black vessel rides;
The wave is thy pillow,
Thy pathway the tides;
Thy red flag on high,
But yet thou must die.
As the sea kings of old;
And a victim to gold.
To none but the free;
My fond hopes in thee.
I leave thee to bear
Its danger and care:
Far over the sea, "
And breaking for thee.
Thou lord of the wave!
To rest in my grave: -
Thou still must be dear,
Be treasured up here.
HARRY BLUFF. When a boy, Harry Bluff left his friends and his
home, And his dear native land, o'er the ocean to roam;
Like a sapling he sprung, he was fair to the view,
And the heart of a true Yankee sailor.
And died like a true Yankee sailor.
THE MINUTE GUN AT SEA.
From thoughts of danger free;
The minute gun at sea.
And dare the dang’rous wave;
For they go the crew to save.
But oh, what rapture fills each breast,
CONSTITUTION AND GUERRIERE.
TUNE— Landlady of France.'
That the British seamen bold,
But they never found their match,
Till the Yankees did them catch,
The Guerriere, a frigate bold,
On the foaming ocean roll’d, Commanded by proud Dacres, the grandee 0;
With choice of British crew,
As a rammer ever drew, They could flog the Frenchmen two to one so handy 0.
When this frigate bore in view,
Says proud Dacres to his crew,
To the weather-gage boys get her,
And to make his men fight better, Gave them to drink, gunpowder, mixed with brandy 0.
Then Dacres loudly cries,
Make this Yankee ship your prize,
Thirty-five's enough I'm sure,
And if you'll do it in a score,