And here is a master excelleth in skill,
And our master's mate he is not to seek;
And here is a boatswain will do his good will,
And here is a ship, boy, we never had leak.
Lustily, lustily, &c.

If fortune then fail not, and our next voyage prove,
We will return merrily, and make good cheer,
And hold altogether as friends link'd in love,
The cans shall be filled with wine, ale, and beer.
Lustily, lustily, &c.

THE MARINER'S GLEE.

From "Deuteromelia; or, the Second Part of Musick's Melodie," &c., 1609.

WE be three poor mariners
Newly come from the seas;
We spend our lives in jeopardy,
While others live at ease.

Shall we go dance the round, a round,

Shall we go dance the round?

And he that is a bully boy,*

Come pledge me on this ground.

We care not for those martial men
That do our states disdain;

But we care for those merchant-men
That do our states maintain.

To them we dance this round, a round,

To them we dance this round;

And he that is a bully boy,

Come pledge me on this ground.

This and the preceding are probably the earliest nautical songs in our language.

* A bully does not here mean a braggart, but a jolly fellow-one fond of fun and frolic "What sayest thou, bully Bottom ?"-Midsummer's Night Dream.

YE GENTLEMEN OF ENGLAND.

MARTIN PARKER. The music by DR. CALCOTT.

YE gentlemen of England

That live at home at ease,
Ah! little do you think upon
The dangers of the seas.
Give hear unto the mariners,
And they will plainly shew
All the cares and the fears

When the stormy winds do blow.
When the stormy, &c.

The sailor must have courage,

No danger he must shun,
In every kind of weather

His course he still must run.
Now mounted on the top-mast,

How dreadful 'tis below,

Then we ride on the tide

When the stormy winds do blow.
When the stormy, &c.

If enemies oppose us

When England is at War

With any foreign nation,

We fear not wound or scar;

Our roaring guns shall teach 'em

Our valour for to know,

Clear the way, for the fray,

Though the stormy winds do blow.
And the stormy, &c.

Then courage, all brave mariners,
And never be dismay'd;
While we have bold adventurers,
We ne'er shall want a trade:
Our merchants will employ us
To fetch them wealth, we know;
Then be bold-work for gold,
When the stormy winds do blow,

When the stormy, &c.

There are several versions of this song. The original and apparently the most ancient, is given with the old melody in Chappell's "Popular Music of the Olden Time;" Part VII., 293. The original ballad, in black letter, is in the Pepys collection, where it is entitled, "Saylers for my money-a new ditty composed in the praise of Saylers and Sea Affaires, &c."

TO ALL YOU LADIES NOW ON LAND.

The EARL OF DORSET, born 1637, died 1706.*

To all you ladies now on land,
We men at sea indite;

But first would have you understand
How hard it is to write :

The Muses now, and Neptune too,

We must implore to write to you.

With a fa, la, la, la, la,

For though the Muses should prove kind,
And fill our empty brain;

Yet if rough Neptune rouse the wind,

To wave the azure main,

Our paper, pen, and ink, and we,
Roll up and down in ships at sea.

With a fa, la, la, la, la.

Then if we write not by each post,
Think not we are unkind;
Nor yet conclude our ships are lost
By Dutchman or by wind:
Our tears we'll send a speedier way-
The tide shall bring them twice a-day.
With a fa, la, la, la, la.

The king, with wonder and surprise,
Will swear the seas grow bold,
Because the tides will higher rise
Than e'er they did of old;

But let them know it is our tears

Bring floods of grief to Whitehall-stairs.

With a fa, la, la, la, la.

On the 2nd of January, 1665, Mr. Pepys went, by appointment, to dine with Lord Brouncker at his house in the Piazza, Covent Garden. He says: "I received much mirth with a ballad I brought with me, made from the seamen at sea to their ladies in town: saying Sir William Pen, Sir George Askue, and Sir George Lawson, made it."

In 1665, Lord Buckhurst, afterwards Earl of Dorset, attended the Duke of York as a volunteer in the Dutch war, and was in the battle of June 3, when eighteen Dutch ships were taken, fourteen others were destroyed, and Opdam, the admiral, who engaged the duke, was blown up beside him, with all his crew. On the day before the battle, he is said. to have composed the celebrated song, "To all you ladies now on land," with equal tran

Should foggy Opdam chance to know,
Our sad and dismal story,

The Dutch would scorn so weak a foe,
And quit their fort at Goree:

For what resistance can they find

From men who've left their hearts behind?

With a fa, la, la, la, la.

Let wind and weather do its worst,
Be ye to us but kind;

Let Dutchmen vapour, Spaniards curse,
No sorrow shall we find:

'Tis then no matter how things go,
Or who's our friend, or who's our foe.

With a fa, la, la, la, la.

To pass our tedious hours away,
We throw a merry main,
Or else at serious ombre play;
But why should we in vain
Each other's ruin thus pursue?

We were undone when we left you.

With a fa, la, la, la, la.

But now our fears tempestuous grow,
And cast our hopes away;

Whilst you, regardless of our woe,
Sit careless at a play,

Perhaps permit some happier man

To kiss your hand or flirt your fan.

With a fa, la, la, la, la.

When any mournful tune you hear,
That dies in every note,

As if it sigh'd with each man's care,
For being so remote:

quillity of mind and promptitude of wit. Seldom any splendid story is wholly true. I have heard from the late Earl of Orrery, who was likely to have had good hereditary intelligence, that Lord Buckhurst had been a week employed upon it, and only retouched or finished it on the memorable evening. But even this, whatever it may subtract from his facility, leaves him his courage.-JOHNSON's Lives of the Poets.

This song has been set as a glee by Dr. Calcott; but is usually sung to an old English .melody, of which the author is unknown,

Then think how often love we've made
Το when all those tunes were play'd.
you,
With a fa, la, la, la, la.

In justice you cannot refuse

To think of our distress,

When we, for hopes of honour, lose
Our certain happiness :

All those designs are but to prove
Ourselves more worthy of your love.

With a fa, la, la, la, la.

And now we've told you all our loves,
And likewise all our fears;

In hopes this declaration moves
Some pity for our tears;

Let's hear of no inconstancy,

We have too much of that at sea.

With a fa, la, la, la, la.

BLACK-EYED SUSAN.

JOHN GAY, born 1688, died 1732. The music arranged by LEVERIDGE, but adapted by him from an older melody.

ALL in the Downs the fleet was moor'd,
The streamers waving in the wind,
When black-eyed Susan came on board,
"Oh, where shall I my true-love find?
Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true,
Does my sweet William sail among your crew?"

William, who high upon the yard

Rock'd by the billows to and fro,
Soon as the well-known voice he heard,
He sigh'd and cast his eyes below;

The cord flies swithly through his glowing hands,
And quick as lightning on the deck he stands.

"O Susan, Susan, lovely dear,

My vows shall always true remain,
Let me kiss off that falling tear,-

We only part to meet again;

Change as ye list, ye winds, my heart shall be
The faithful compass that still points to thee.