The prey being caught, To a favorite lass, Is a chace we as nobly pursue. Tantivy, tantivy, my boys, let's away, [day. TH HO' hurricanes rattle, tho' teinpests appear, For the pride of our hearts is to hand, reef, and steer, Weigh anchor, and bear off from shore. If contention of winds raise the waves mountains erect, Then with messmates we cheerily sing, Why lately we espied, 'fore the jib right a-head, Then by skill of our helmsman, the weather-gage got, And soon as a-long side her we lay, We so pepper'd her hull, and her masts away shot, That to strike she was forc'd to obey : So we took her in tow, and to Plymouth direct, Where our crew did all manfully sing, Thus our navy shall ever old England protect, Our laws, constitution, and King. THE THE silent hour of midnight reigns, Seduc'd by flattery's silver tongue, My heart by simp'ring Love was guil'd: But ah! ye maids, some pity give The breast where many sorrows lay. ᎪᎢ T early dawn, from humble cot, A1 Where dreams did ne'er with guilt affright, Poor Lima, cheerful at her lot, To labour rose with true delight; Te-wit, te-wit, good morrow, Poor and content, can know no sorrow. When shades of night o'erwhelm'd the plain, To sleep, which peace can only know: The nightingale in plaintive strain, SAY, smiling nymph, where is thy blest abode? Where e'er thou art 'tis thine to soften woes; If If thou art present, every thing is good; Or all the honours that e'er wealth can bear. Then gracious heaven vouchsafe to hear my pray1, I learn in every state to be content. H! the hours I have pass'd in the arms of my dear, Can never be thought on but with a sad tear: Oh! forbear, Oh! forbear, then, to mention her name, It recalls to my mem'ry the cause of my pain. How often to love me she fondly hath sworn, And when parted from me would near cease to mourn, All hardships for me she would cheerfully bear, And at night, on my bosom, forget all her care. To some distant climate, together we'll roam, And forget all the hardships we meet with at home; Fate now be propitious, and grant me thine aid, Give me my Pastora, and I'm more than repaid. O TOMMY, TOMMY, Tommy, brother Johnny's dying, Pretty little Sally sits beside him crying, Mother's not at home, she's a market making, Pretty little Sally's in a dismal taking: Fatal day, fatal day of heavy mourning, Johnny's going fast, whence there's no returning. O Tommy, Tommy, &c. TO Gib. we steer'd; the Gut had made; Each tar no coward heart betray'd, The battle now commenc'd, and borne Tom at the gun with portfire stood, |