inely beaming
On silent lake and tree;
And ruddy light was o'er all streaming,
Mark, man! for thee;
O'er valley, lake, and tree!

And now a thousand maidens stray,
Or range the echoing groves;
While, flutt'ring near, on pinions gay,
Fan twice ten thousand loves,
In that soft clime, at even time,
Hope says"----

"Enough of this, Roderick," impatiently interrupted his master. "There is
too much of the Corydon in that song for the humour of a manner. Sing us
of the sea and its pleasures, boy; and roll out the strains in such a
fashion as may suit a sailor's fancy."

The lad continued mute, perhaps in disinclination to the task, perhaps
from utter inability to comply.

"What, Roderick! does the muse desert thee? or is memory getting dull? You
see the child is wilful in his melody, and must sing of loves and sunshine
or he fails. Now touch us a stronger chord my men, and put life into your
cadences, while I troll a sea air for the honour of the ship."

The band took the humour of the moment from their master, (for surely he
well deserved the name), sounding a powerful and graceful symphony, to
prepare the listeners for the song of the Rover. Those treacherous and
beguiling tones which so often stole into his voice when, speaking, did
not mislead expectation as to its powers. It proved to be at the same time
rich, full, deep, and melodious. Favoured by these material advantages,
and aided by an exquisite ear, he rolled out the following stanzas in a
manner that was singularly divided between that of the reveller and the
man of sentiment. The words were probably original; for they both smacked
strongly of his own profession, and were not entirely without a touch of
the peculiar taste of the individual

All hands, unmoor! unmoor
Hark to the hoarse, but welcome sound,
Startling the seaman's sweetest slumbers.
The groaning capstan's labouring round,
The cheerful fife's enliv'ning numbers;.
And ling'ring idlers join the brawl,
And merry ship-boys swell the call,
All hands, unmoor! unmoor!

The cry is, "A sail! a sail!"
Brace high each nerve to dare the fight,
And boldly steer to seek the foeman;
One secret prayer to aid the right,
And many a secret thought to woman
Now spread the flutt'ring canvas wide,
And dash the foaming sea aside;
The cry's, "A sail! a sail!"

Three cheers for victory!
Hush'd be each plaint o'er fallen brave;
Still e