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Unshelter'd and forced by fatigue to remain,
I have rode out the storm the billows beat
high, And the red gleaming lightnings flash'd through the
When the tempest of night the black sea overcast, Wet and weary I labourd, yet sung to the blast.
I have march'd, trumpets sounding, drums beat
ing, flags flying Where the music of war drown'd the shrieks of the
dying; When the shots whizz'daround me, all dangers defied; Push'd on when my comrades fell dead at my side; Drove the foe from the mouth of the cannon away, , Fought, conquer'd, and bled, all for sixpence a-day.
And I too, friend Samuel, have heard the shots
rattle! But we seamen rejoice in the play of the battle ; Though the chain and the grape-shot roll splintering
around, With the blood of our messmates though slippery
the ground, The fiercer the fight, still the fiercer we grow, We heed not our loss so we conquer the foe;
And the hard battle won, if the prize be not sunk, The Captain gets rich, and the Sailors get drunk.
God help the poor soldier when backward he goes, In disgraceful retreat through a country of foes ! No respite from danger by day or by night, He is still forced to fly, still o'ertaken to fight; Every step that he takes he must battle his way, He must force his hard meal from the peasant away ; No rest, and no hope, from all succour afar, .. God forgive the poor soldier for going to the war!
But what are these dangers to those I have past, When the dark billows roar'd to the roar of the blast; When we work'd at the pumps worn with labour
and weak, And with dread still beheld the increase of the leak? Sometimes as we rose on the wave could our sight, From the rocks of the shore catch the light-house's
light; In vain to the beach to assist us they press ; We fire faster and faster our guns of distress; Still with rage unabating the wind and waves roar ;.. How the giddy wreck reels, as the billows burst o'er! Leap, leap; for she yawns, for she sinks in the wave! Call on God to preserve .. for God only can save !
There's an end of all troubles, however, at last ! And when I in the waggon of wounded was cast,
When my wounds with the chilly night-wind smarted
sore, And I thought of the friends I should never see more, No hand to relieve, scarce a morsel of bread, Sick at heart I have envied the peace of the dead. Left to rot in a jail, till by treaty set free, Old England's white cliffs with what joy did I see ! I had gain'd enough glory, some wounds, but no good, And was turn'd on the public to shift how I could. When I think what I've suffer'd, and where I am
I curse him who snared me away from the plough.
When I was discharged, I went home to my wife, There in comfort to spend all the rest of my
snug cabin on shore.
wife. Then the fair wind of fortune chopt round in my face, And want at length drove me to guilt and disgrace. But all's for the best;.. on the world's wide sea cast, I am haven'd in peace in this corner at last.
Come, Dick I we have done .. and for judgement
And in faith I can give you no judgement at all : But that as you're now settled, and safe from foul
weather, You drink up your grog, and be merry together.
TIME, Night. Scene, The Woods.
WHERE shall I turn me? whither shall I bend
Thou coward wretch,
Death! Where the magic in that empty name That chills my inmost heart? Why at the thought Starts the cold dew of fear on every limb ? There are no terrors to surround the Grave, When the calm Mind collected in itself Surveys that narrow house: the ghastly train