YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND THOMAS CAMPBELL E mariners of England, YE That guard our native seas, Whose flag has braved a thousand years The battle and the breeze! Your glorious standard launch again, To match another foe! And sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow; While the battle rages loud and long, The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave! For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave: Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell, Your manly hearts shall glow, While the stormy winds do blow; Britannia needs no bulwarks, No towers along the steep; Her march is o'er the mountain waves, With thunders from her native oak As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow. The meteor flag of England Till danger's troubled night depart, Then, then, ye ocean warriors! Our song and feast shall flow When the storm has ceased to blow; When the fiery fight is heard no more, And the storm has ceased to blow. THE LIGHT OF OTHER DAYS THOMAS MOORE FT, in the stilly night, Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Fond memory brings the light Of other days around me; The smiles, the tears, Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken; The eyes that shone, Now dimm'd and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken! Thus, in the stilly night, Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad memory brings the light Of other days around me. When I remember all The friends, so link'd together, I've seen around me fall, Like leaves in wintry weather; I feel like one Who treads alone Some banquet-hall deserted, Thus, in the stilly night, Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad memory brings the light A CANADIAN BOAT SONG THOMAS MOORE AINTLY as tolls the evening chime, Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time. Soon as the woods on shore look dim, We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn. Row, brothers, row! the stream runs fast, The rapids are near, and the daylight's past! Why should we yet our sail unfurl? There is not a breath the blue wave to curl. Utawa's tide! this trembling moon |