The book of gemsThe modern poets and artists of Great Britain . fective in giving truth to the line, Eritaniiia rules the waves.* His songs come home to the uneducated minds of seamen : they are simple in lan-guage, and homely in construction. Refined and embellished, their effectwouldbe they have had a prodigious—almost a universal—influence over our mariners,is certain : it has been as salutary as it is powerful. They teach that while courageis a noble quality, it is elevated into a virtue when exerted for our country; andthat something more than brute force is necessary to make a
The book of gemsThe modern poets and artists of Great Britain . fective in giving truth to the line, Eritaniiia rules the waves.* His songs come home to the uneducated minds of seamen : they are simple in lan-guage, and homely in construction. Refined and embellished, their effectwouldbe they have had a prodigious—almost a universal—influence over our mariners,is certain : it has been as salutary as it is powerful. They teach that while courageis a noble quality, it is elevated into a virtue when exerted for our country; andthat something more than brute force is necessary to make a good sailor. They notonly inculcate bravery in battle, but patience under less exciting perils ; and describediscipline and subordination as leading duties. They have been quoted with efl^ect tosuppress mutiny ; they have, indeed, contributed largely to strengthen the great bul-warks of Britain—her wooden walls—to raise the character of her best defender— the British tar—and to establish that which is a substance, and not a sound— British glory!. DIBDIN. I SAILED FROM THE DOWNS. I SAILED from the Downs in the Nancy, My jib how she smackd through the breezeShes a vessel as tight, to my fancy, As ever saild on the salt , adieu! to the white cliffs of Britain, Our girls, and our dear native shore;For if some hard rock we should split on. We shall never see them any sailors were born for all weathers. Great guns let it blow high, blow low,Our duty keeps us to our tethers, And where the gale drives we must go. J 64 BiBDIN. When we enterd the gut of Gibraltar, I verily thought shed have sunk ;For the wind so began for to alter. She yawd just as thof she was squall tore the mainsail to shivers,— Helm a-weather, the hoarse boatswain cries;Brace the foresail athwart, see she quivers, As through the rude tempest she flies. The storm came on thicker and faster, As black just as pitch was the sky;When truly a doleful disaster Befel three poor sailo
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Keywords: ., bookauthorwordsworthcollection, bookce, booksubjectenglishpoetry
