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And 'twas strange when around one such vices appear,

She could weep with her friend, and her sorrows revere!

But, ah! those proud blasts that blind fortune has

sent

On the head of her father, with age lowly bent,
Have forc'd her,all graceful, all beauteous, to yield
To glean the scarce ear left in Florido's field.

Resolv'd to possess her, he chas'd all her fears;
Her tale she related, all meekness, in tears;
The wretch yet was gen'rous, he proffer'd her
gold-

To the want of her parents her virtue she sold ;
He press'd to his bosom the weight of her charms,
And she sunk, all regardless, in Florido's arms.
The frenzy is over--her honour is gone !
And who can but weep, since poor Mary's undone?

GODDESS! descend on our plains,

And enlighten our rustical throng!

To thy altar I offer my strains,

And the graces of Nisida's song.
Bring those charms that give birth to desire,
Nor be thy young Cupids away;
Around these fair scenes we admire
Let thy Graces all negligent stray.

To twine the rude wreath while we rove,
Desirous to place on thy shrine,

O let thy sweet power improve
Our manners, their roughness refine !

Tho'

THE GOLDFINCH.

Tho' a rustic I live in the fields,

And attend to my pipe and my sheep Yet a softness my passion reveals,

That has taught me to sigh and to weep.

HO' cloudy skies and storms appear,
The sailor's heart is blithe and gay;
No pain he feels, no danger fears,
But merry sings this roundelay:-
When safe on shore,

All cares are o'er;
Where beauty's smile
Rewards his toil,

How blest the British Sailor!

From love alone my cares arose:
When late I went more wealth to seek,
Like dewdrops on the damask rose,
The tears look'd bright on Nelly's cheek.
Now safe on shore,

Her cares are o'er;
Her cheerful smile
Rewards my toil;

How blest her constant Sailor!

The Sailor's duty he performs,

Rewarded by the fair one's love;
Her smiles are sunshine after storms,
That clouds of anxious doubts remove.
When safe on shore,

'All cares are o'er;

When beauty's smile

Rewards his toil,

How blest the British Sailor!

ΤΟ

To lecture I come, and your pardon I erave,

For truly no learning my subject imparts; So spare me, kind critics, all-potent and grave, For mine is a poor simple lecture on hearts. First, then, Britain's glory, the heart of a Tar; Is there aught of more courage, or precious in worth?

Ah no! whether glowing in peace or in war,

'Tis alike ever true to the place of its birth; Then health to a Sailor!-and this be the strainThe Tars of Old England again and again! The heart of a Lover, when tender and true, Is a heart to be priz'd, as each woman must own; While the heart of a Miser, to give him his due,

Is a heart-selfish mortal !—as hard as a stone. Then the heart of a Virgin-and such,too, there be, That love with a passion devoid of all art— Shall surely be rated and set down by me;

Her bosom's all sweetness, all softness her heart: Then health, blooming health!-and let this be the strain,

To Love, and true Lovers, again and again!

The heart of a Lawyer-and, O what a thing! 'Tis a compound of something that's hard to

define;

When you think it all honey, you find it all sting, And what really good for I cannot assign. Now, then, for a heart, and a gallant one, too; Tis a Soldier's-and where is a braver in fight? For England it beats ever loyal and true,

And proves that her good is its dearest delight: Then health to a Soldier and this be the strainOur Soldiers and Sailors again and again!

I WEEL

WEEL can remember how can I forget it?.. Nanny's blithe wedding, when I held the glove; How my feet they danc'd quick, but my heart it danc'd quicker,

For Willy was there, and O! he was my love.
O my Willy! my winsome Willy!

My heart how it beats when I look upon thee!

Now Willy was bonny, his hair was a' gowden; Bright, bright were his cen, when he turn'd them on me;

Wi' the rose on his cheek, like the blush o' the
morning,
Saying, Jenny, now love me, as I can love thee!
O my Willy, &c.

I lov'd him already, I ken'd na to jeer him,
For Willy was gude, and my heart was in tune;
I sigh'd, and he look'd: on his knees, fell poor
Willy;

The church made us ane, and our wooing was done.

O my Willy, &c.

To the gallant arm'd train,

Who are crossing the main

In the cause of their Country and King;
To the Chief in Command

Of the all-glorious band,

The warmest of wishes we sing.

Ev'ry

Ev'ry Briton will join hand and heart in the strain;
Ev'ry heart will support the petition,
That Heaven may bless, with brilliant success,
Brave York, and the grand Expedition.
Neighbour France, you oft swore,
When you threaten'd our shore,
What mighty great feats you wou'd do;
But so long you delay

The kind visit to pay,
We've resolved to wait upon you.

Ev'ry Briton, &c.

Gaul's fraternal embrace,
Though it fail'd to take place,

So highly we prize as her suit;
That we send to her coast
A fine gallant host,

To give her a British salute.

Ev'ry Briton, &c.

When arriv'd on her shore,

Let her welcome us o'er,

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With Caira' on fife and with drum;

In return for her song,

We will teach her, 'ere long,

The chorus of 'Britons strike home.'
Ev'ry Briton, &c.

Since an army of France, nam'd
Of England so fam'd,

'Tis pity that she should not have one;

So, for that compliment,

We this ariny have sent,

Convinc'd she would find it a brave one.

Ev'ry Briton, &c.

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