THE BRITISH ANCHOR. J. E. CARPENTER.] [Music by E. J. LODER. Fill up, fill up your mystic fires, A noble work is thine No sound is in the old dockyard- The signal's given-strike! stalwart men, Hurrah! they've forged the anchor- They've launch'd a huge and mighty hull There's danger on the angry deep- "All hands aloft !" the boatswain cries, Oh! the anchors of our navy are There's not a clime-east, west, north, south, Have wrung from e'en our bitterest foes Oh! his must be a coward's heart PSALM OF LIFE. H. W. LONGFELLOW.] [Music by S. GLOVER. Tell me not in mournful numbers Life is real life is earnest! Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Art is long, and time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, In the world's broad field of battle, Be not like dumb driven cattle- Trust no future, howe'er pleasant; Lives of great men all remind us Let us then be up and doing, ONE SWEET HOUR. J. E. CARPENTER.] [Music by E. L. HIME. The mist is on the mountain, The dew is on the flower, For one sweet hour with thee. The moon's in splendour riding, The stars their midwatch keeping, All, all, &c. WOULD YOU BE HAPPY? R. BENNETT.] [Music by S. GLOVER. Oh! would you be happy, to others be kind, The blest hand of charity ever will find In the time of your sadness, the day of your grief, That by word or by deed you have given relief Oh! would you be happy, think kindly of all, The great have their follies as well as the small, Take the world as it is, and help all that you can, The thought that you've been of some service to man, Will give comfort and peace to your heart. THE GIFT FROM O'ER THE SEA. J. E. CARPENTER.] [Music by S. GLOVER, "What shall I bring thee, maiden, say— To prove, when I am far away, A costly gem, a pearly shell, A bird of plumage rare, Or flower unknown to us who dwell Where blossom none so fair?" "I ask no gem, no pearl I crave," A COURSING SONG. EDWARD FARMER.] [English Air. Let dukes keep their racers, my lord have his stud, And the 'squire sport his pack, and his prime bit of blood; Give me a good kennel of greyhounds, and let The BEST dog always win, when for coursing we're met. Singing, gently, so ho! halloo, let 'em go, They're off like gun-shot, how like racing they go! See stripped of their clothing,-look, look! what a treat What muscular haunches, what small cat-like feet; They're beautiful creatures,-I'll pound 'em to go. Come, where is your starter, your judge, where is he? Put a brace into slips, and some sport you shall see; Hold hard there, you horsemen don't ride o'er the ground; I ne'er saw this beaten but "pussy" was found. We're sure of a find in this stubble, I know. So ho, there! I told you;-now give her fair play; |