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The prey being caught,
By example we're taught,
Then the full flowing glass,
To a favorite lass,
Tantivy, tantivy, my boys, let's away, [day.
While the season invites to the sports of the
TIIO' hurricanes rattle, tho' tempests appear,
Why lately we espied, 'fore the jib right a-head,
And thwart of her poop aFrenchensign was spread, That the tri-colour'd stripes did display;
Then by skill of our helmsman, the weather-gage
got, And soon as a-long side her wc lay, We so pepper'd her hull, and her masts away
That.to strike she was fore'd to obe y:
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 silent hour of midnight reigns,
Nor in its murmurs takes a share;
A moment stay to hear my woes, Then softly flutter thro' the trees, And leave the foliage to repose.
Seduc'd by flattery's silver tongue,
The tempter, man, beheld and smil'd, And while the Syren sweetly sung,
My heart by simp'ring Love was guil'd •; But left forlorn on earth's wild waste,
Shame's mourning daughter then was I, Shunn'd by the virtuous and the chaste,
Alone to weep, alone to sigh.
But ah! ye maids, some pity give
To her whom softness led astray, And by a silent tear relieve
The breast where many sorrows lay.
Return not evil on his head,
To measure blessings in its stead.
AT early dawn, from humble cot,
To labour rose with true delight;
Or at her distaff closely plied,
Oft' to her woodbine window hied,
When shades of night o'erwhelm'd the plain,
And dying embers scarce would glow: Poor Lima sought her cot again,
To sleep, which peace can only know: To give her wearied spirits rest,
The nightingale in plaintive strain,
Lull'd not to sweet repose in vain,
SAY, smiling nvmph, where is thy blest abode?
For long I've sought it, but have sought in vain.
Where e'er thou art 'tis thine to soften woes;
On thee alone man's happiness depends; Without thee earthly riches are but foes,
'Tis thou, and only thou canst be his friend.
O TOMMY, Tommy, brother Johnny's dying,
TO Gib. we steer'd; the Gut had made;
When close upon her side we stood;
The battle now commenc'd, and borne
With zealous ardour by each crew; .
And trickling gore of crimson hue.
Death stares each hero in the face;
While others ev'ry post embrace.
Tom at the gun with portfire stood,
A ruthless ball dispers'd his blood,