SONG.

Sung in the Difbanded Officer.

N fancy letsnature delight;

Her fields and her flow'rets may change, Soft breezes thro' groves wing their flight,

And her brooks thro' her meadows may range.
The lark in her fun-beam i may fing,

Tho' mute in her mansion of fnows
Yet love from its bloffem of fpring,
No change or cold winter fhall know.

Ye maidens more happy than T,

Poffefs'd of the youth you hold dear;
From love can you spare me a figh,
With mine will your mingle a tear!
Ah no! for that heart cannot feel,
That never has lost its repofe;
To friendship then let me reveal
The forrows that love only knows.
***

SON G.

"Sung in Camus.

Y the gaily-circling glafs

BY

We can fee how minutes pafs ;

By the hollow cask are told
How the waning night gross plds

Soon, too foon, the bufy day
Drives us from our fport and play;
What have we with day to do?
Sons of care, was made for you ta

10

SONG.

SOO VN CG.2

The Linnet, written by Mr. Hawkins.

I heard a linnet fing,

13

S paffing by a fhady grove, ma then mas

Whofe fweetly plaintive voice of love
Proclaim'd the chearful fpring."

AX

His pretty accents feem'd to flowed pwan sly d
As if he knew no paint to duld gribal se V
His downy throat he tun'd fo,fweetyd no sensual ar
It echo'd o'er the plain.

Ah! happy warbler (I replytda aytun

Contented thus to bę jana kutisha hd can

'Tis only harmony and love.nts a molla pien Can be compar'd to thee.

Thus perch'd upon the spray you ftand,

The monarch of the fhade;

And even fip ambrofia! (weets,
That glow from every glade."

Did man poffeisht he be Jud 201 300 aliw way tossed

a kn

but half thy blifs soul my

How

But man was never form'd for this, ewlehi baid mo

'Tis only joy for thee.

Boostada balsóa wondere LI

Then farewell, pretty bifdtronate

(Traidy
Jakub To`ynat tə

Purfue thy plaintive tale aat diw set

And let thy tuneful accents Ipread

All o'er the fragrant vale...

SONG.

The Rofe Bud

WEET bud! to Laura's bofom gon
And live beneath her eye;
There, in the fun of beauty blow,
Or taste of heaven and die.

Sweet earneft of the blooming year!
Whofe dawning beauties fpeak
The budding blush of fummer near,
The fummer on her cheek!

Bleft emblem of the nymph I love,
Refembling beauty's morn,
To Laura's bofom hafte, and prove,
One rofe without a thorn.

L

SONG..

Sung in Midas.›

OVELY nymph, affuage my anguish,
At your feet a tender fwain

Prays you will not let him languish;
One kind look wou'd eafe his pain.

Did you know the lad that courts
You, he not long need fue in vain ;
Prince of fong, of dance, of sports,
Yon fearce will meet his like again.

TH

SONG.

The Knife Grinder.

Sung at Sadler's Wells.

HERE are grinders enough, Sir, of ev'ry de
gree,

From jewel-deck'd great, to low poverty;
Whatever the ftation, it fharpens the fenfe,
And the wheel it goes round to wind in the pence.
Mafter grinders enough at the helm you may find,
Tho' I'm but a journeyman-Knives to grind.

Whatever the ftatefman may think of himself,
He turns fortune's wheel in pursuit of the pélf;
He grinds back and edge, Sirs, his ends to obtain,
And his country may ftarve, fo he pockets the gain.
Mafter grinders, &c.

The rich grind the poor, is a faying of old s
The merchant, the tradefman, we need not be told:
Whether Pagan, Mahometan, Chriftian you be,
There are grinders of all forts, of ev'ry degree.
Mafter grinders, &c.

The patriot, with zeal animated, declares

The curtain he'll draw, and difplay the ftate playerss
He is a ftaunch grinder, to fome 'tis well known,
And they're mightily gall'd by the grit of his ftone.
Mafter grinders, &c.

I too am a grinder, what, what, Sirs, of that?
I am but in tafte, fince I copy the great:
To be, Sirs, ingenuous, I'll tell you my mind:
'Tis for what I can get, makes me willing to grind.
Mafter grinders enough at the helm you may find,
Tho' I'm but a journeyman-Knives to grind.

SONG.

F

66

Ben and Kate of Invermay, by Mr. Upton.

T

AREWELL, Tweet Kate," the failor cry'd,
• War calls your Ben away 31.

"When peace returns, I make my briderunt, alf Sweet Kate of Invermayama eso ni Mader nio må Vasmoy mind alt in digiama amb egraní "Butig es zwar Kalejemeantoj e and all ode

Farewell, my. Ben," fair Kate reply'd

***Since brouw

« May angels o'er thy fate prefide,

And field thee from each foc

Ben.

"I thank thee, Love and How ha feår kaija deh odT Gan reach thy father's heart and (Save only one, ry, Beafiteous déal) ei medicale "Tis? Kate+we now mult part,

When battle calls to arme! 15ucing slauf e vi sli ** Britanniaibits the pBop', laway, likdagi sa' pads baA "Quell Albion's dread alarme, isbning M

Linn Bêm peâu

She doth but mult I leave my Kate

T

Without one parting kissons I tow stil "Forbid Heav'n à forbid it, Fateli mafiaM Take this and this and this "o and A'I D

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She