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How many who, disdaining fear,
Rush on the desperate duty,

Shall claim the tribute of the tear
That dims the eye of beauty!

A doubtful fate, &c

'What nuble fate can Fortune give?

Renown shall tell our story,
If we should fall; but, if we live,

We live our country's glory!
'Tis true a doubtful fate he tries, &cv

RECITATIVE.

MARK! the horn calls away;
Come the grave, come the gay;
Wake to music that wakens the skiesj
(Juit the bondage of sloth, and arise.

From the east breaks the morn,

See the sun-beams adorn
The wild heath, and the mountains so high 5
The wild heath, and the mountains so high 5

Shrilly opes the staunch hoimd,

The steed neighs to the sound,
And the floods and the valleys reply;
And the floods and the valleys reply.

Our forefathers, so good>
ProvM their greatness of Wood,

By encount'ring the pard and the boar;

By encount'ring, &e<

Ruddy Ruddy health bloom'd the face,

Age and youth urg'd the chase,
And taught woodlands and forests tw roar;
And taught, &c.

Hence, of noble descent,

Hills and fields we frequent. Where the bosom of nature's reveal'd, Where the, &c.

Tlio' in life's bu<:y day,

Man of man niiikes a prey,
Still let ours be the prey of the field:
Still let ours, &c-

With the chase in full sight,

Gods! how great the delight! How our mortal sensations refine! How our,,&c.

Where is care ? where is fear?

Like the winds in the rear!
And the man's lost in something divine;
And the man's, Sec.

Now, to borer, my brave boys!

Lo! each pants for the joys That anon shall enliven the whole; That anon shall enliven the whole;

Then at eve we'll dismount,

Toils and plea-ures recount, And renew the chase over the bow!; And renew the chase over the bowl.

o HEBE

[graphic]

MERE a sheer hulk lies poor Tom Bowling,
The darling of our crew-
No more he'll hear the tempest howling,

For death hath broach'd him to.
His form was of the manliest beauty;

His heart was kind and soft; Faithful below be did his duty, And now he's gone aloft,

Tom never from his word departed;

His virtues were so rare,
His friends were many, and true hearted}

His Poll was kind and fair:
And then he'd sing so blithe and jolly;

Ah! many 's the time and oft!
But mirth is turn'd to melancholy,

For Tom is gone aloft!

Yet shall poor Tom find pleasant weather,

When He who all commands,
Shall give, to call life's crew together,

The word to pipe all hands.
Thus death, who kings and tars dispatches,

In vain Tom's life has dolFd:
For though his body 's under hatches,

His soul is gone aloft!

JOHN BULL for pastime took a prance,
Some time ago to peep at France,
To talk of sciences and arts,
And knowledge gain'd in foreign parts;

Monsieur

Monsieur obsequious, heard him speak,
And answer'd him in Heathen Greek;
To all he ask'd, 'bout all he saw,
'Twas Monsieur je vous n'entends pas.

John to the Palace Royal come,
Its splendour almost struck him dumb;
I say, whose house is that there here?
Hosse! je vous n'entends pas, monsieur.
What! Nong ton;; paw, again, cries John,
This fellow is some mighty Don;
No doubt has plenty for the maw,
I'll breakfast with this Nong tong paw.

John saw Versailles from Marfi's height,
And cryd, astonish'd at the sight,
Whose line estate is that there here?
Stat! je vous n'entends pa?, monsieur.
His! what the land and houses too?
This fellow's richer than a Jew:
On ev'ry thing he lays his claw,
I should like to dine with Nong tong paw.

Next tripping came a courtly fair;
John cryd, enchanted with her air,
What lovely wench is that there here?
Ventch ! je vous n'entends pas, monsieur.
Whafc! he again? upon my life,
A palace, lands, and then a wife;
Sir Joshua might delight to draw;
I should like to sup with Nong tong paw.

But hold, whose funeral's that ? cry'd John,
Je vous n'entends pas; what! is he gorie?

c 2 Wealth, Wealth, fame, and beauty, could not Save

[graphic]

Poor Nong tons paw, then, from the grave:

His race is run, his game is up,

I'd with him breakfast, dine, and sup;

But since he chooses to withdraw,

Good night t've, Monsieur Nan tong paw.

TTTTARK! hark! the joy-inspiring born
JOL Salutes the rosy rising morn,

And echoes through the dale;
With clam'rous peals the hills resound,
The hounds, quick-scented, scour the ground,

And snuff tlie fragrant gale.

Nor gates nor hedges can impede
The brisk, high-mettled, starting steed;

The jovial pack pursue j
Jjke lightning darting o'er the plains,
The distant hills with speed he gains,
And sees the game in view.

Her path the timid hare forsakes,
And to the copse for shelter makes,
, \ There pants awhile for breath;
When now the noise alarms her ear,
Her haunt's descryM, her fate is near,
She sees approaching death.

Directed by the well-known breeze,
The hounds their trembling victim seize;

She faints, she falls, she dies!
The distant coursers now come in,
And join the loud, trinmphant din,

Till echo rend the ?kjes.

[graphic]
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