A man's like a ship on the ocean of life,
The sport both of fair and foul weather,
Where storms of misfortune, and quicksands of strife,
And clouds of adversity gather.
If he steers by the compass of honour, he'll find,
No matter what latitude meets him,
A welcome in every port to his mind,
And a friend ever ready to greet him.
If love takes the helm in an amorous gale,
Of the rocks of deception beware,
Steer fairly for port, and let reason prevail,
And you're thus sure to conquer the fair.
For the Bay of Deceit keep a steady look out,
Steer clear of the shoals of distress,
~188~~
Yet ever be ready to tack and about
When the black waves of misery press.
Like a vessel, digest out in all colours, d'ye see,
Are the virtues and vices of life:
Blue and red are the symbols of friendship and glee,
White and black of ill-humour and strife.
True worth, like true honour, is born of no clime,
But known by true courage and feeling,
Where power and pity in unison chime,
And the heart is above double dealing."
[Illustration: page189]
"Ay, Tom, now you're on the right tack--a good song, and a jovial
friend, and let the marines blubber about love and lullaby, it'll never
do for the sailors.
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