Tom Bowling. HERE, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling, No more he'll hear the tempest howling, His heart was kind and soft; Tom never from his word departed, His virtues were so rare; His friends were many and true-hearted; And then he'd sing so blithe and jolly, Yet shall poor Tom find pleasant weather, When He who all commands, Shall give, to call life's crew together, The word to pipe all hands. Thus Death, who kings and tars despatches, In vain Tom's life has doffed; For, though his body 's under hatches, His soul is gone aloft. CHARLES DIBDIN. The Dream of Engene Aram. "Twas in the prime of summer time, An evening calm and cool, And four-and-twenty happy boys Came bounding out of school; There were some that ran and some that leapt Away they sped with gamesome minds Like sportive deer they coursed about, |