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And the rushing water soaks all,
From the seamen in the fo'ksal
To the stokers, whose black faces
Peer out of their bed-places;
And the captain he was bawling,
And the sailors pulling, hauling,
And the quarter-deck tarpauling
Was shivered in the squalling;
And the passengers awaken,
Most pitifully shaken;

And the steward jumps up, and hastens For the necessary basins.

Then the Greeks they groaned and quivered,
And they knelt and moaned and shivered,
As the plunging waters met them,
And splashed and overset them;
And they called in their emergence
Upon countless saints and virgins;
And their marrow bones are bended,
And they think the world is ended.
And the Turkish women for'ard
Were frightened and behorrored;
And, shrieking and bewildering,
The mothers clutched their children;
The men sang "Allah! Illah!
Mashallah Bismillah!"

A3 the warring waters doused them,
And splashed them and soused them;
And they called upon the Prophet,
Who thought but little of it.

Then all the fleas in Jewry
Jumped up and bit like fury ;
And the progeny of Jacob
Did on the main-deck wake up,
(I wot those greasy Rabbins
Would never pay for cabins ;)

And each man moaned and jabbered in

His filthy Jewish gabardine,

In woe and lamentation,

And howling consternation.

And the splashing water drenches

Their dirty brats and wenches;

And they crawl from bales and benches, In a hundred thousand stenches.

This was the white squall famous,
Which latterly o'ercame us,
And which all will well remember,
On the 28th September;
When a Prussian captain of Lancers
(Those tight-laced, whiskered prancers)
Came on the deck astonished,
By that wild squall admonished,
And wondering cried, "Potz tausend,
Wie ist der Stürm jetzt brausend?"
And looked at Captain Lewis,

Who calmly stood and blew his
Cigar in all the bustle,
And scorned the tempest's tussle.
And oft we've thought hereafter
How he beat the storm to laughter;
For well he knew his vessel
With that vain wind could wrestle;
And when a wreck we thought her,
And doomed ourselves to slaughter,
How gayly he fought her,

And through the hubbub brought her,
And as the tempest caught her,
Cried, "George, some brandy and water!"

And when, its force expended,
The harmless storm was ended,
And as the sunrise splendid

Came blushing o'er the sea,

I thought, as day was breaking,
My little girls were waking,
And smiling, and making

A prayer at home for me.

WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.

OUR BOAT TO THE WAVES.

OUR boat to the waves go free,

By the bending tide, where the curled wave breaks,

Like the track of the wind on the white snow

flakes:

Away, away! "T is a path o'er the sea.

Blasts may rave, - spread the sail,

For our spirits can wrest the power from the wind,

And the gray clouds yield to the sunny mind, Fear not we the whirl of the gale.

WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING.

TO SEA!

To sea! to sea! the calm is o'er,
The wanton water leaps in sport,
And rattles down the pebbly shore,

The dolphin wheels, the sea-cows snort,
And unseen mermaid's pearly song
Comes bubbling up, the weeds among.
Fling broad the sail, dip deep the oar:
To sea! to sea! the calm is o'er.

To sea! to sea! our white-winged bark Shall billowing cleave its watery way, And with its shadow, fleet and dark,

Break the caved Triton's azure day,

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POEMS OF ADVENTURE AND RURAL

SPORTS.

CHEVY-CHASE.

[Percy, Earl of Northumberland, had vowed to hunt for three days in the Scottish border, without condescending to ask leave from Earl Douglas, who was either lord of the soil or lord warden of the Marches. This provoked the conflict which was celebrated in the old ballad of the "Hunting o' the Cheviot." The circumstances of the battle of Otterbourne (A. D. 1398) are woven into the ballad, and the affairs of the two events are confounded. The bal lad preserved in the Percy Reliques is probably as old as 1574. The one following is a modernized form, of the time of James I.]

GOD prosper long our noble king,
Our lives and safeties all;

A woful hunting once there did
In Chevy-Chase befall.

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Then, having dined, the drovers went
To rouse the deer again.

The bowmen mustered on the hills,
Well able to endure;

And all their rear, with special care,
That day was guarded sure.

The hounds ran swiftly through the woods
The nimble deer to take,

That with their cries the hills and dales
An echo shrill did make.

Lord Percy to the quarry went,

To view the slaughtered deer;
Quoth he, "Earl Douglas promised.
This day to meet me here;

"But if I thought he would not come,
No longer would I stay";
With that a brave young gentleman
Thus to the earl did say :-

"Lo, yonder doth Earl Douglas come, -
His men in armor bright;
Full twenty hundred Scottish spears
All marching in our sight;

"All men of pleasant Teviotdale,
Fast by the river Tweed";
"Then cease your sports," Earl Percy said,
"And take your bows with speed;

"And now with me, my countrymen,
Your courage forth advance;
For never was there champion yet,
In Scotland or in France,

"That ever did on horseback come, But if my hap it were,

I durst encounter man for man,
With him to break a spear."

Earl Douglas on his milk-white steed, Most like a baron bold,

Rode foremost of his company,

Whose armor shone like gold.

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