HE WAS FAMED. HE was fam'd for deeds of arms, One pure flame pervades both hearts: Love to conquest now must yield: Sweet maid, he cries, again I'll come to thee, Battle now with fury glows, His duty tells him to depart, And now the trumpet sounds to arms! And now the clash of war's alarms! Sweet maid, he cries, again I'll come to thee, He with love and conquest burns, O death! he cried, thou'rt welcome now to me, SWEET KITTY CLOVER. SWEET Kitty Clover, she bothers me so, Oh, oh, oh, oh! Her cheeks are red, and round, and fat, Like pulpit cushion, and redder than that. My Kitty in figure is rather low, She's three feet high, and that I prize, Oh, oh, &c. Oh, sweet Kitty Clover, &c. Where Kitty dwells I'm sure to go, Oh, oh, &c. One moon-light night, ah me, what bliss!" Through the hole of the window I gave her a kiss, Oh, sweet Kitty Clover, &c. If Kitty to kirk would with me go, Oh, oh, &c. I think I should never be wretched again, Amen. Oh, sweet Kitty Clover, &c. NOT A DRUM WAS HEARD. NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, O'er the grave where our hero was buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, Few and short were the prayers we said, No useless coffin confined his breast, Nor in sheet nor in shroud we bound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him. We thought as we heap'd his narrow bed, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, But nothing he'll reck if they let him sleep on, When the clock told the hour for retiring; Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carv'd not a line, we rais'd not a stone, But we left him alone in his glory. MAY HE WHO WANTS GRATITUDE. THE being devoid of bright gratitude's flame, TOGETHER LET US RANGE THE FIELDS. TOGETHER let us range the fields, There in close embower'd shades, OH, WHAT A MONSTROUS GAY DAY. Oн, what a monstrous gay day! My lord he will marry my lady, Smooth is the path, &c, Lorenza will wed Leonora ! Dear, how they'll all bill and coo; Smooth is the path, &c. ROBBER'S GLEE. THE tiger couches in the wood, We spring upon him to supply, WATERS OF ELLE! WATERS of Elle! thy limpid streams are flowing, DEAR object of defeated care Though now of love and thee bereft ; To reconcile me with despair, Thine image and thy tears are left. MY GAUNTLET'S DOWN. My gauntlet's down, my flag unfurl'd, For thee, my love, I'd lose the world, |