" Soon as the sun, great ruler of the year,'' Bends to our northern chnnes his bright career, And from the caves of Ocean calls from sleep The finny shoals and myriads of the deep ; When freezing tempests back to Greenland ride, And day and night the equal hours divide ; True to the season, o'er our sea-beat shore, The sailing Osprey high is seen to soar With broad, unmoving wing ; and, circling slow, Marks each loose straggler in the deep below, Sweeps down like lightning ! plunges with a roar I And bears his struggling victim to the shore.

The long-housed fisherman beholds, with joy, The well-known signal of his rough employ ; And, as he bears his nets and oars alon^. Thus hails the welcome season with a song : --

THE FISHERMAN'S HYMN.

The Osprey sails above the Sound ; The geese are gone, the gulls are flying ; The herring shoals swarm thick around ; The nets are launched, the boats are plying. Yo, ho, my hearts ! let's seek the deep, Raise high the song, and cheerly wish her, Still as the bending net we sweep, " God bless the fish hawk and the fisher."

She brings us fi.sh -- she brings us Spring, Good times, fair weather, warmth, and plenty ; Fine store of shad, trout, herrings, ling, Sheeps-head and drum, and old-wives' dainty. Yo, ho, my hearts ! let's seek the deep, Ply every oar, and cheerly wish her, Vol. I. 69