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Each waning star from heav'n's blué vault retires, And Venus fading last of all expires.

3890 The wilderness of waves has chang'd its hue To paly green from dye of deepest blue, The twittering swallow hovers o'er the mast, The wreathing rock-weed on the sea is pass’d, And as our rapid prow the billows lave 3895 We meet the curlew floating on the wave, Who, being peer'd at, dips his plumage white Full in the foam, and vanishes from sight. Now toil the tars—their hardy bosoms glow, They heave the ponderous anchor o'er the bow, 3900 While


the hatch the cable's stubborn coil From the deep tier is urg'd with shouting toil. While now on ocean's bosom faintly die The last pale glimpses of the twilight sky, Watching from deck intent the coming morn, 3905 We look her blush the headland to adorn, And many a naval groupe already hail Thy pastures, Albion, breathing in the gale. Now, hark ! aloft the canvass-climbing boy, Nestling amidst the shrouds, with brawling joy, Calls to the sailors, as he points his hand, Good tidings shipmates-land, the blessed land! Then thus the chief with rapture’s glist’ning tear, O! word to charm an angel from his sphere !

What looks it like?

3915 I dinna ken its name, But spy it, captain, in the salt sea faemAnd, in gude faith, sin’ heav'n will have it sae, A kirk! a bonny kirk o'ertops the bay. One with a chimney?

Hoot, you do it wrangSic as where Shelty dearly loves to gang Wi' bis auld beard new-trimm'd. Hoot, hoot awa, I see twa kirks, and twa kirk-yards witha.*

Speak English-with your border-brogue have done, To us 'tis German coil'd against the sunLook sharp about-is any bark in sight? Yonder is one with sail as siller bright.What looks she, boy, to thy discerning view ? One that defrauds the weal of revenue ? 3930 A smuggler, eh !-She looks, Sir, vary shyThey've got their sweeps out, and inshore they ply: They take us for a king's ship, Sir, nae doubt, They're all on deck putting their sloop about, Save some who, o'er the wave-repelling prow 3935 Their kegs are sinking in the deep below.t

In coming from sea, and making the Land's End at E. or ENE. two round hills are seen, on the higher one of which a church may be discerned, and on a nearer approach another church becomes visible upon the outermost end of the low land.

+ Smugglers, on the British coast, when in danger of being captured, often sink their kegs concatenated by a splice into a kind

Now they both ply the sweep, and hoist the sail They're busy as the de'el, Sir, in a gale.

Our flag display! we roam not to deprive
A smuggler of his freight-all trades must thrive
They seek again their flaggons-venturous grown-
They see our stars, and joyous bless their own.
Boatswain! what boy is he who spies the land ?-
The veriest rogue, Sir, under your command.
How name you him ?-Caleb, the piper's page, 3945
His voice my bosom fills with deadly rage.
My poor boy Jug, who stood him once in fight,
Goug'd by the wretch, is half depriv'd of sight;
His larboard top-light, Sir, can scarce discern
The plank he treads on, or the stem from stern.
Does Scotland's leafless region claim his birth ?
Wherefore his Erse?-He talks it, Sir, in mirth.
His uncouth dialect from Shelty caught,
His mimic tongue has to diversion wrought:
A true North Carolinian, from Cape Fear, 3955
The young imp from no mischief can forbear :
Without remorse he leaves his hoary sire,
To join the skulkers at the galley-fire;*

of chain ; and, after the lapse of weeks, will return to the identical place, and dra, successfully for their immersed freight, guided back by the remeinbrance of the bearing of some cape, or particular object on the shore.

* Small vessels have a caboose for cooking the victuals: large ones a galley-fire. A ship is a microcosm ; and at the galley the

His quips, his pranks, his pastime to pursue
Amidst the most abandon'd of the crew. 3960
And, when sung out for, up the hatch will dart,
And at Tom Cox's traverse play his part.
When all the hands are pip’d, in vain I shout-
He stands two calls before he e'er turns out-
And though not longer rests a ground-tier butt,*
The recreant slumbers till his clues are cut.t
As for salvation, Sir, I humbly hope,
If overboard, I would not throw a rope:
To save his soul !-Pipes, if there truth be found
In adages-the boy will ne'er be drown'd. 3970
Main-top-mast cross trees ! whence with roving feet
Went you aloft the chalky coast to greet ?-
'T'was Shelty's will, Sir! only yesternight
The blind man saw it, Sir, by second sight-

quid-nuncs assemble to discuss the news of the day. The falsehoods fabricated around the ship's ingle are called “ Galley Packets ;" a proverbial phrase for spurious news.

They who keep no watch at sea are likened to a ground-tier butt for the length of their slumber.

+ Those who do not turn out, after being repeatedly summoned, have the clues of their hammocks cut-which is called sawing their bed-posts.

# Of a worthless fellow the sailors say, If he were to fall overboard I would not throw him a rope.


And charg‘d me to endeavour to discern
The Land's End first, and a full bottle earn.




Now for Britannia's isle we closer haul,
The sea her trench, proud fleets her floating wall,
Far in our wake the Longshipst leave behind,
And round Bolerium with indulgent wind 3980

He who descries the land first is entitled, by prescription, to a bottle of rum.

+ The Land's End, or the western extremity of Cornwall, is called in the old authors the Promontory of Belleriuin, or Bolerium, from Bellerus, a Cornish giant, who made it the place of his abode. Milton, in apostrophizing Lycidas, alludes to this tradition :

Or whether thou to our moist vows deny'd,
Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old.

* The Longships are rocks off the Land's End, on the boldest of which a Light House is erected. To form some notion of this perilous reef of granite it needs only be told that, in a tempest the structure rocks violently, and that its lanthorn, though 110 feet in height, is covered with the bellowing surf. Had Zanga been placed here to trim the lamps, it may, I think, be questioned whether he would have exclaimed :

“ I like this rocking of the battlements !”.

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