The Rock of Liberty. 60 Copied by permission of RUSSELL & TOLMAN, 291 Washington St., Boston, owners of the copyright. Oh! the firm old rock, the wave-worn rock, That braved the blast and the billow’s shock; It was born with time on a barren shore, And it laugh’d with scorn at the ocean’s roar. ’Twas here that first the Pilgrim band, Came weary up to the foaming strand; And the tree they rear’d in the days gone by, It lives, it lives, it lives, and ne’er shall die. Thou stern old rock in the ages past, Thy brow was bleach’d by the warring blast; But thy wintry toil with the wave is o’er, And the billows beat thy base no more. Yet countless as thy sands, old rock, Are the hardy sons of the Pilgrim stock; And the tree they rear’d in the days gone by, It lives, it lives, it lives, and ne’er shall die. Then rest, old rock, on the sea-beat shore, Our sires are lull’d by the breaker’s roar; ’Twas here that first their hymns were heard O’er the startled cry of the ocean bird. ’Twas here they lived, ’twas here they died, Their forms repose on the green hill-side; And the tree they rear’d in the days gone by, It lives, it lives, it lives, and ne’er shall die. Our Mary Ann. 61 Oh, fare you well, my own Mary Ann, Fare you well for a while; The ship is ready, and the wind is fair, And I am bound for the sea, Mary Ann. Oh, didn’t you see your _turtile_ dove, A sittin’ on yonder pile, Lamenting the loss of his own true love, And so am I for my Mary Ann. Oh, fare you well, &c. A lobster in a lobster pot, A blue fish in a brook, May suffer some--but you know not, What I do feel for my Mary Ann. Oh, fare you well, &c. The pride of all the produce ground, The dinner kitchen-garden fruit, Is _pnmpkins_ some, but can’t compare, The love I bear for my Mary Ann. Oh, fare you well, &c. Evening Star. 62 Beautiful star in heaven so bright, Softly falls thy silver light, As thou movest from earth afar, Star of the evening--beautiful star. Beautiful star, beautiful star, Star of the evening, Beautiful, beautiful star.