It faded away from his aching eye,
And left no hope for him.

Yet still tolled on that soft, sad bell,
While unknown voices sung;

'Twas the dying mariner's funeral knell,
O'er his watery grave that rung.

DROWNED!

WHERE the mud lies black and slimy,
Where the waters sweep along,

Where the wharfmen, stout and grimy,
Heave and haul with many a song-
Heaving still

With a will,

Every coming dray to fill;
Hauling, with a laugh and shout,
Bales of wondrous size about;
Straining to the ponderous weight
Of the good ship's wealthy freight.

Where the wind and swelling river
Rolls in one perpetual rhyme,
Where the gracious winds deliver

Glorious things from every clime--
Stuffs to wear,

Spices rare,

Lie in heaps, or scent the air

Where the merchant, full of gold,
Welcomes home the seaman bold;
Where each heart, its love confess'd
Clasps the loved one to the breast.

Where the soft-voiced land-breeze ever
Hums its tune by mast and shroud,
Where the rough-tongued master never
Ceases crying to the crowd-
"With a haul,

Lubbers all,

Stretch your muscles to the fall!"

Where the never-ceasing flow,

Man above, and waves below,
Night and day, pours on and off,
Mingling at the city wharf.

There the vagrant boy is standing
With a ghastly, frightened air;
While each lounger is demanding
What he sees to make him stare.
Still his eyes

Grow in size

As his stammering speech he tries;

And his finger points below,

Where the waters ebb and flow.

Still his lips give forth no sound
But a hoarsely whispered "Drowned!"

Where the planks are green and rotten, Sending forth a sickening steam,

Where the day-light is forgotten,
And the wharf-rat reigns supreme—

In his eyes
Fierce surprise

At his toothsome human prize :
Squeaking, gibbering forth a cry,
As the crash above goes by;
Heeding neither man nor horse
In his battles o'er the corse.

With a crowbar to the planking,
With the tackle and the fall,
With a heave, and with a clanking,
Shivering hands give willing haul.

There he lies!

Open eyes

Turned towards the sunlit skies-
There he lies in oozing slime,
Heedless of the place and time;
Heedless of the gazing throng,
Heedless of the clash and song.

Sunlight falls like shadows fading,
Still the song goes on aloud-

Still with gaze that seems upbraiding
Stares the dead man on the crowd.
Hours fly

Swiftly by;

Sunset darkens on the sky

Ere the lingering men and boys
Hear the dead-cart's rumbling noise
O'er the distant stone-clad ground,
Coming for the man that's "Drowned."

Had his limbs been clothed in scarlet,
Were his linen rich and rare,
Had he been the veriest varlet,
Tainting God's own perfumed air,
Would he lie,

While hours fly,

Staring sightless to the sky?

Would the crowd so careless stand
If a gem gleamed on his hand?

Would they sing and laugh around,

Were he better dress'd when "Drowned?”

ANON.

A FAMOUS SEA-FIGHT WITH A ROVER.

STRIKE up, you lusty gallants,

With music and sound of drum,

For we have descried a Rover

Upon the sea is come.

His name is Captain Ward,

Right well it doth appear,

There has not been such a Rover

Found out this thousand year.

For he hath sent unto the king,
The sixth of January,

Desiring that he might come in

With all his company: "And if your king will let me come, Till I my tale have told,

I will bestow for my ransom
Full thirty ton of gold."

"O nay, O nay," then said our king,

« O nay,

this may not be,

To yield to such a Rover

Myself will not agree ;

He hath deceived the Frenchmen, Likewise the king of Spain,

And how can he be true to me, That hath been false to twain ?”

With that our king provided

A ship of worthy fame, Rainbow is she called,

If you would know her name; Now the gallant Rainbow

She roves upon the sea, Five hundred gallant seamen

To bear her company.

The Dutchman and the Spaniard,
She made them for to flee,
Also the bonny Frenchman,

As she met him on the sea.