Page:Far, far at sea (NLS104186882).pdf/3

3 Could I trace back the time, a far distant date,

Since my forefathers toil’d in this field; state.

And the farm I now hold on your honour’s es-

Is the same that my grandfather till’d.

He, dying, bequeath’d to his son a good name.

Which unsullied descended to me;

For my child I’ve preserv’d it, unblemish’d with shame,

And it still from a spot shall be free.

THE SAILOR’S EPITAPH.

, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling,

The darling of our crew;

No more he’ll hear the tempest howling,

For death has brought him to.

His form was of the manliest beauty,

His heart was kind and soft;

Faithful below he did his duty,

But 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 blythe and jolly.

Ah! many’s the time and oft!

But mirth is turn’d to melancholy,

For Tom is gone aloft.