Page:Pocock's Everlasting Songster.djvu/41

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The wind blows hard and mountains roll, And thunder makes from pole to pole, The dreadful waves furrounding roam, Still flattering fancy wafts him home; In hopes when toil and danger's o'er, To anchor on his native fhore.

When round the bowl th? jovial crew, The early fcenes of youth renew, Tho' each his favorite fair will boaft, This is the univerfal toaft, May we when toil and danger's o'er, Cau anchor on our native fhore.

��THE STORM.

CEASE rude Boreas, bluft'ring railer, Lift ye landmen all to me, Meffmates hear a brother failor,

Sing the danger of the fea : From bounding billows, firft in motion,

When thediftant whirlwinds rife, To the tempeft-troubPd ocean, Where the feas contend with fkies.

Hark, the boatfwain hoarfely bawling,

By topfail flieets and hallyards ftand, Down top-gallants, quick be hauling,

Down your ftay- fails, hand boys, hand : Now it frefhens, Vet the braces,

The topfail fheets, now let go ; Luff boys, luff, don't make wry faces,

Up your top-fails nimbly clew.

Now

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