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Ah! non, non, non,
Ah! non, non, non,
But now he's gone from me, and left me thus
mourning, To quell the proud rebels—for valiant is be: And, ah! there's no hope of his speedy returning,
To wander again on the banks of the Dee.
He's gone, hapless youth! o'er the loud roaring
billows, The kindest and sweetest of all the gay fellows, And left me to stray 'mongst the once loved wil
lows, The loneliest maid on the banks of the Dee,
But time and my prayers may perhaps yet restore
him, Blest peace may restore my dear shepherd to me; And when he returns, with such care I'll watch
o'er him, He never shall leave the sweet banks of the Dee.
The Dee then shall flow, all its beauties displaying, The lambs on its banks shall again be seen
playing; Whilst I, with my Jamie, am carelessly straying,
And tasting again all the sweets of the Dee.
O F all sensations pity brings
v To proudly swell the ample heart, From which the willing sorrow springs,
In others' grief that bears a part.
Of all sad sympathy's delights,
The manly dignity of grief,
And gives the anxious mind relief.
Alost gen'rous, noble, greatly brave, That ever taught a heart to glow,
'Tis the tear that bedews a soldier's grave. For hard and painful is his lot;
Let dangers come, he braves them all; Valiant, perhaps, to be forgot,
Or undistinguish'd doom'd to fall! . . . Yet wrapt in conscious worth secure,
The world, that now forgets his toil,
And quits it with a willing sinile.
'Twere graceful pity, nobly brave: Nought ever caught the heart to glow,
Like the tear that bedews a soldier's grave."
T'Mjolly Dick, the lamplighter;
For I'in a pretty lad.
And make it look so gay-
And father lights by day.
But father's not the like of I,
For knowing life and fun;
Folks never show the sun.
I've heard your wise ones say,
Things never seen by day..
As quite a useless task ;
Will then pull off the mask.
Will throw disguise away,
Who sainted it all day.
Misses from friends decamp:
To his country, o'er his lamp.
Are just on the same lay :
And he falše saints by day.
TN vain the grave and wise,
I The thoughtful and the sage,
Youth's the season to be gay,
Then smile each beau and belle : To joy we'll give the day:
Åh!-Vive la bagatelle !
The laughing hours invite
To sport, while young and gay: With love and soft delight
Our minutes pass away. Old age and care they say,
O'ertake each beau and belle : Who'd meet such foes half-way?
Ah !-Vive la bagatelle !
TTF life is a bubble, and breaks with a blast,
to last; For this bubble may well be destroyed with a puff, If it is not kept floating in liquor enough. If life is a flow'r, as philosophers say, 'Tis a very good hint, understood the right way; For, if life is a flow'r, any blockhead can tell, If you'd have it look fresh, you must moisten it
This life is no more than a journey, 'lis said, Where the roads, for most part, are confoundedly
bad; Then, let wine be our spur, and each trav’ller will
own, That, whatever the roads, we jog merrily on. :