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J. M. Bailey

Look Aloft.

This spirited piece was suggested by an anecdote related of a ship-boy who, growing dizzy, was about to fall from the rigging, but was saved by the mate's characteristic exclamation, "Look aloft, you lubber!"

I N the tempest of life, when the wave and the gale Are around and above, if thy footing should fail, If thine eye should grow dim, and thy caution depart, The Bald-Pated Welshman and the Fly.

A SQUIRE of Wales, whose blood ran Than that of any other squire, higher Hasty and hot; whose peevish honor Revenged each slight was put upon her; Upon a mountain's top one day, Exposed to Sol's meridian ray, He fumed, he raved, he cursed, he swore, Exhaled a sea at every pore; At last, such insults to evade, Sought the next trees protecting shade; Where as he lay dissolved in sweat, And wiped off many a rivulet, Off in a pet the beaver flies, And flaxen wig, Time's best disguise, By which folks of maturer ages Vie with smooth beaux, and ladies' pages ; Though 'twas a secret rarely known, Ill-natured age had cropped his crown, Grubbed all the covert up, and now A large, smooth plain extends his brow.

Thus as he lay with numskull bare, And courted the refreshing air, New persecutions still appear ; A noisy fly offends his ear.

Alas! what man of parts and sense Could bear such vile impertinence?

Yet, so discourteous is our fate, Fools always buzz about the great.

This insect now, whose active spite Teased him with never-ceasing bite, With so much judgment played his part, He had him both in tierce and carte.

In vain with open hands he tries "Look aloft!" and be firm, and be fearless of heart. If the friend who embraced in prosperity's glow, With a smile for each joy and a tear for each woe, Should betray thee when sorrows like clouds are For now at last, familiar grown, arrayed, "Look aloft" to the friendship which never shall fade. Should the visions which hope spreads in light to thine eye, Like the tints of the rainbow, but brighten to fly, Then turn, and through tears of repentent regret, "Look aloft" to the Sun that is never to set.

Should they who are dearest, the son of thy heart, The wife of thy bosom, in sorrow depart, "Look aloft," from the darkness and dust of the tomb, To that soil where affection is ever in bloom.

And oh! when death comes in his terrors, to cast His fears on the future, his pall on the past, In that moment of darkness, with hope in thy heart And a smile in thine eye, "look aloft," and depart.