Page:Weary pund o' tow.pdf/5

 5 While oft the lead the seaman ſlung. And to the pilot cheerly sung, “ By the mark-Seven!” And as the much lov'd shore we near- With transport we behold the roof, Where dwelt a friend or partner dear, Of faith and love a matchless proof! The lead once more the seamen slung: And to the watchful Pilot sung, " Quarter less--Five!" Now to her birth the ship drawſ nigh, We take in sail- she feels the tide; « Stand clear the cable,"—is the cry, The anchor's gone, we safely ride. The watch is set, and thro' the the night, We hear the seamen with delight, Proclaim- All's well!

Dull Care BEGONE, dull care, I prithee begone from me, Begone, dull care, you and I can never agree, Long time thou haſt been tarrying here, and ſain thou would'ft me kill; But in faith, dull care, thou never ſhalt have thy will. Too much care will make a young man grey, And too much care will turn an old man to clay ;