Too brave to save his life in flight, He sought the thickest of the fight, There, amid a heap of dead, Pierced with wounds, he laid his head, Soon his noble soul was gone, And Leila was left alone. V. An awful rout and slaughter then began, For, whilst they strove its torrent to repass, Their tents in fierce, high-mounting flames were seen. Thus British arms and power won the cause, And all the Punjab bows to British laws. 21 THE SAILOR'S CHRISTMAS EVE. "Vela dabant læti; spumas salis ære ruebant." A NOBLE barque was crossing o'er the sea, The creaking booms with crowds of canvas bend; The decks were swept, and every brace was coiled, "All hands abaft!" the sun-burnt skipper cries: "Ay, ay, Sir," each with ready tongue replies, To the companion wriggling wends his way, Anxious to hear what may the skipper say. 66 My lads," says he, "'tis Christmas eve, you know, So, save the helmsman, all may go below; I'll tell the steward double grog to serve, "Twill cheer your hearts and gladden every nerve." Away they roll, delighted with the news, Each one his quid with novel ardour chews, And now they hear the steward's welcome call, And straight with joy receive the generous draught. To quaff at ease the master's bounteous cheer, Each to his hammock turns, and, lounging there, Strives in the general glee to take a share. Th' exhausted rum at last dispels the joke, Says Jack, "What say, suppose we have a smoke." 66 "A good idea," they cry; the pipes are lit, Each on their chests in circling order sit, The clouds of smoke in fragrant rings ascend, 66 Now, Jack," says Bill, "I vote we have a song,— "Twill serve the evening's pleasure to prolong." The willing Jack, obedient, clears his throat, Song, "O, 'twas a bright balmy morning in May, When Jack to his lovely Susanna did say: 'Once more, my own life, I must plough the salt sea, And part for a while from Old England and thee. "Once more o'er the billowy deep I must cross, Once more see the far-roaming, bold albatross; "And when, at dark midnight, the deck I must tread, And the cold ocean breeze blusters fierce o'er my head, I will dream of your little cot under the tree, And rove in my thoughts to Old England and thee. “Then adieu, dearest Susey; if ever you fear, When the wind raises hills on the ocean so drear, O think that 'tis wafting me over the sea, Returning rejoiced to Old England and thee."" The carol ends 'mid universal praise, His mite of thanks each one with pleasure pays, Whilst Jack proceeds 'twixt long drawn whiffs to tell He learn'd the ballad at the Dog and Bell. The steward now descends, the fun to share, And brings a pot of grog to pay his fare. 66 "but first I beg Drink, and pass round," says he, Much can't about "fantastic toes" be said; Bill scrapes a fiddle, while the rest advance, And next the steward one and all invite Some mighty tale of marvels to recite; He makes excuse, but soon with grace relents, And to regale the gaping crowd assents. And thus at length the wondrous story ran: |