MR.. COUGHS SONG,
{"newspaper_name": "The Washingtonian.", "edition": "01", "page": "p1", "byline": "BY WIN. B. TAPPAN."}
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BY WIN. B. TAPPAN.
was tossed by the winds on a treacherous wave;
Above me was peril beneath me grave;
The sky, to my earnest inquiry, was dark;
The storm in deluge came down on my bark;
How fearful to drive on q horrible shore,
Where breakers of Ruin eternally roar
Oh, Mercy to wreck in the morning of days
To die when life dazzes with changeable rays
To sink as the grovelling and vile of the ship,
The rose on my cheek, and the dew on my lip
And .f.g, as bauble, my soul to the heaps
That glisten and mock from the caves of the deeps.
oh, no !! for STAR trembles out in the sky,
The shrieks of the ocean complainingly die,
The gales that covet blow fresh from the shore,
Where breakers of Ruin eternally roar;
Each sail presses homeward-all praises TO Thee,
Whose word in that hour hushed tempest and sea