Charles Dibdin, der Sohn eines Silberarbeiters, ward 1745 in Southampton geboren und ging frühzeitig nach London, um dort durch Lieder und Balladen sein Glück zu machen, musste sich aber als Klavierstimmer forthelfen. 1762 ward er Schauspieler und bald auch Schauspieldichter und lieferte nun hinter einander mehr als hundert Bühnenstücke; dennoch starb er 1814 in Dürftigkeit.

Seinen eigentlichen Ruhm erntete Dibdin als Volksdichter, er hat nahe an 1200 Lieder hinterlassen und die Mehrzahl derselben auch selbst in Musik gesetzt; viele davon sind in das Volk gedrungen und finden sich in Aller Mund, ganz vorzüglich aber im Mund der Seeleute, deren Lieb

linge sie sind. Reich an tüchtiger, patriotischer Gesinnung, einfach, warm, natürlich, gefühlvoll, erfüllen sie alle Anforderungen, die man an populäre Poesie machen kann und verdienen durchaus die Verbreitung, die sie fanden.

I sailed from the Down.

I sailed from the Downs in the Nancy,
My jib how she smack'd through the breeze,

She's a vessel as light to my fancy,

As ever sail'd on the salt seas.

So, adieu! to the white cliffs of Britain,

Our girls, and our dear native shore; For if some hard rock we should split on, We shall never see them any more. But sailors were born for all weathers, Great guns let it blow high, blow low, Our duty keeps us to our tethers,

And where the gale drives we must go.

When we enter'd the gut of Gibraltar,

I verily thought she'd have sunk; For the wind so began for to alter,

She yaw'd just as thof she was drunk.
The squall tore the mainsail to shivers,

Helm a-weather, the hoarse boatswain cries;
Brace the foresail athwart, see she quivers,
As through the rude tempest she flies.

The storm came on thicker and faster,

As black just as pitch was the sky; When truly a doleful disaster

Befel three poor sailors and I:

Ben Buntline, Sam Shroud, and Dick Handsail,
By a blast that came furious and hard,
Just while we were furling the mainsail
Were every soul swept from the yard.

Poor Ben, Sam, and Dick cried Peccavi;
As for I, at the risk of my neck,
While they sunk down in peace to old Davy,
Caught a rope and so landed on deck:

Well, what would you have? we were stranded,
And out of a fine jolly crew

Of three hundred that sail'd, never landed
But I, and I think twenty-two.

After thus we at sea had miscarried,
Another guess-way sat the wind;
For to England I came and got married,
To a lass that was comely and kind:
But whether for joy or vexation,

We know not for what we were born;
Perhaps I may find a kind station,
Perhaps I may touch at Cape Horn.

For sailors were born for all weathers,
Great guns let it blow high, blow low,

Our duty keeps us to our tethers,
And where the gale drives we must go.

Tom Bowling.

Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling,
The darling of our crew;

No more he'll hear the tempest howling,
For death has broach'd him to.

His form was of the manliest beauty,
His heart was kind and soft;
Faithful below he did his duty,
And now he's gone aloft.

Tom never from his word departed,
His virtues were so rare;

His friends were many, and true-hearted,
His Poll was kind and fair.

And then he'd sing so blithe and jolly,
Ah! many's the time and oft;
But mirth is turn'd to melancholy,
For Tom is gone aloft.

Yet shall poor Tom find pleasant weather,
When He who all commands

Shall give, to call life's crew together,
The word to pipe all hands.

Thus death, who kings and tars dispatches,
In vain Tom's life has doff'd;
For though his body's under hatches,
His soul is gone aloft.

Lovely Nan.

Sweet is the ship that under sail
Spreads her bosom to the gale:
Sweet, oh! sweet's the flowing can;

Baillie.

Joanna Baillie ward um 1764 zu Bothwell in Schottland, wo ihr Vater Prediger war, geboren. Sie zog nach ihrer Eltern Tode nach Edinburg, dann nach London, wo sie am Längsten verweilte und darauf nach Hampstead, wo sie gegenwärtig in hohem Alter und unvermählt, noch lebt.

Ihre bedeutendste dichterische Leistung ist eine Reihe von Dramen, in welchen sie die vorherrschenden Leidenschaften der Menschen zu characterisiren sucht (A Series of Plays in which it is attempted to delineate the stronger passions of the mind. London 1798 fgde. 2 Bde., deutsch von Cramer, Leipzig 1806), welche aber nicht für die scenische Darstellung bestimmt sind. Ausserdem hat sie noch einige andere Dramen und kleine lyrische Poesieen geschrieben.

Allan Cunningham urtheilt sehr richtig von ihr (am ang. O. S. 107): "Johanna Baillie oder Schwester Johanna, wie Walter Scott sie gern nannte, ist eine Dichterin von grossem Verdienste und vielseitigem Talent, kräftig und mild, sarkastisch und rührend, natürlich und heroisch zu gleicher Zeit. Sie wagte sich an die Schilderung der Leidenschaften in dramatischen Gemälden und entwickelte dabei so mannichfache Kräfte, dass sie der weibliche Shakspeare genannt worden ist. In ihren anderen Gedichten herrscht viel Adel des Gefühls und ihre Lieder besitzen alle das Leben, den Humor und die Einfachheit der älteren schottischen Balladen.

With mocks and threats, half lisped, half When drawn the evening fire about,

Sit aged Crone and thoughtless Lout,
And child upon his three-foot stool,
Waiting till his supper cool;

And maid, whose cheek outblooms the rose,
As bright the blazing faggot glows,
Who, bending to the friendly light,
Plies her task with busy sleight:

Come, shew thy tricks and sportive graces
Thus circled round with merry faces.

Backward coiled, and crouching low,
With glaring eye-balls watch thy foe,
The house wife's spindle whirling round,
Or thread, or straw, that on the ground
Its shadow throws, by urchin sly