P R 
 
 .V5T 
 
 THE 
 
 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 MEWARK, H. jr. I 
 
 PUBLISHED BY BENJ. 
 
 18 52. 
 
 OLDS. 
 
f. 
 
 a- 
 
 K 
 
 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
THE 
 
 VOCAL LYM: 
 
 A 
 
 CHOICE SELECTION. 
 
 OF THE MOST 
 
 POPULAR, SENTIMENTAL, 
 
 PATRIOTIC, 
 
 COMIC SOIVGS,,/ \'i 
 
 OF THE PRESENT TIME. 
 
 NEWARK, N, J.: - .Ay/ 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 BENJAMIN OJLDS, 
 
 1852. 
 
 ; OJ 
 
^•^x\%'A 
 
THE 
 
 VOCAJL hYum. 
 
 NEWARK, N. J. 
 BENJAMIN OLDS, 
 
 PUBLISHER. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 AND FIRST LINE 
 
 A Clerk I was, 
 
 . 
 
 41 
 
 A Sailor's Life, 
 
 . 
 
 13 
 
 A Highland Laddie, 
 
 . 
 
 47 
 
 A traveller stopped at a Widow's 
 
 Gate, 
 
 SG 
 
 Ah sure a pair was never seen, 
 
 . 
 
 101 
 
 Anacreon, they say, 
 
 . 
 
 127 
 
 A Chieftain to the Highlands bound, 
 
 133 
 
 Bruce to his Army, - 
 
 - 
 
 72 
 
 By the gaily circling glass. 
 
 - 
 
 80 
 
 Blow, blow, thou Summer Breeze 
 
 > " 
 
 82 
 
 By raoonlight on the Green, 
 
 
 99 
 
 Biov/ high, blow low. 
 
 - 
 
 115 
 
 Captain Wattle, 
 
 - 
 
 42 
 
 College Rules, 
 
 - 
 
 50 
 
 Cherry Cheek'd Patty, 
 
 - 
 
 55 
 
 Conjugal Comfort, - 
 
 - 
 
 94 
 
 Cease, cease those Sighs, - 
 
 . 
 
 97 
 
 Charms of the World, 
 
 . 
 
 119 
 
 Come Old Time, - 
 
 - 
 
 128 
 
 Come all you maids. 
 
 - 
 
 ib. 
 
 Diogenes, surly and proud, 
 
 - 
 
 14 
 
 Dame Durdsn, 
 
 - 
 
 80 
 
 Deserted by the waning Moon, 
 
 
 109 
 
 Does the heart of Rosa slumber, 
 
 - 
 
 114 
 
 Distress me with these tears no more, 
 
 129 
 
 Dear busy Bee, 
 
 - 
 
 118 
 
Dear is my little native vale, 
 
 Evelin's Bower, - - - 
 
 Encompass'd in an Angel's frame, 
 
 Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour. 
 
 Forget thee, in my banquet hall, - 
 
 Far, far at sea, - - - 
 
 Flow, thou regal purple stream, - 
 
 From thee, Eliza, I must go, 
 
 Good people attend to my lay, 
 
 Go where glory waits thee, 
 
 Giles Scroggins, - 
 
 Glorious Apollo, - . - 
 
 Here's the bower she loved so much, 
 
 Honest Tom, 
 
 He was famed for deeds of arms, - 
 
 How stands the glass, 
 
 Here's a health to all good lasses. 
 
 In death's terrific icy arms 
 
 I saw the virtuous man contend, - 
 
 In my Cottage near a wood, 
 
 I thought this heart consuming lay, 
 
 I^was the boy for bewitching 'em, 
 
 Jean Anderson, my Jo, 
 
 I'll to my love prove true, - 
 
 John Anderson, my Jo, 
 
 I've kissed and I've prattled. 
 
 Knowing Joey, 
 
 Kate of Aberdeen, 
 
 Loony Mactwolter, 
 
 Love in thine eyes forever plays, - 
 
 Life lei us cherish, - 
 
 Let others breathe the melting sign, 
 
 Love among the roses. 
 
 Love and glory, - 
 
 Love has eyes, - - - 
 
 Meg of Wapping, - 
 
 Mary, I believ'd thee true, 
 
 Mister Peter Snout, 
 
Meeting of the waters, - - 16~ 
 
 Mouline's Maria, - - - 113 
 
 My Highland home, - - 123 
 
 Noble Betty, ... 31 
 
 Old Mary, her poor liusband dead, 17 
 
 Old Towler, ... 27 
 
 O Nancy wilt thou go with me, - 29 
 
 Oh tell me pilgrims, faint and w^eary 75 
 
 O nothing in Life, - - 117 
 Perhaps it is not love, said I, .81 
 
 Robin Adair, ... 49 
 
 Red Cross Knight, - . 63 
 
 Rich and Rare, . - - 71 
 
 Since the first dawn, &c. - - 12 
 
 Sweet Seducer, blandly smiling, - Hi 
 
 Say fluttering heart, - - 30 
 
 Should avjld acquaintance be forgot, 32 
 
 Sorrow's a snivelling boy, - 140 
 
 The harp that once, - - 11 
 
 The flower girl, - - - 13 
 
 That man who for life - - 19 
 
 The man who for life, - - 20 
 
 The mad Dog, - - - 23 
 
 Tom Tackle was noble - - 25 
 
 Tom Bowling, - - - 35 
 
 Tree of Liberty, .... 39 
 
 The Post Office, - . - 52 
 
 The Savoyard Boy, - - 59 
 
 The Sultan and the wag, - 61 
 
 The Sapling Oak, - - 64 
 
 The Daaih of Tom Moody, - 73 
 
 The Cosmetic Doctor, - - 77 
 
 The Friend and Pitcher, - - ib. 
 
 Tiie tough wooden walls, - ^2 
 
 The wounded Hussar, - - ^5 
 
 The north-east wind, - - ^^7 
 
 The Bard's Legacy, - - SIJ 
 
 The Bold Dragoon, - - 90 
 
VlU 
 
 Tom Truelove, 
 
 The woodpecker, - 
 
 The Banks of Banna, 
 
 The Barrel of Ale, 
 
 Take, oh take my fears away. 
 
 There's nought but care, - 
 
 The Sportsman's Delight, 
 
 The world is ail nonsense, 
 
 The Mail Coach, - 
 
 The fall of Algiers, 
 
 This life is like a troubled Sea, 
 
 The Thrasher, 
 
 There was a man, - 
 
 The Soldier Tired, 
 
 Tom Starboard, 
 
 The Bay of Biscay O, - 
 
 With an honest old Friend, 
 
 What is glory. 
 
 What is Love, 
 
 Witli my Jug in one hand, 
 
 When 1 was a Younker, - 
 
 When the rosy morn appearing, - 
 
 What is woman like, 
 
 What a beauty I did grow, 
 
 When the rose bud, 
 
 W^ater parted from the sea, 
 
 Wlien Vulcan forged, 
 
 Will Watch, 
 
 You meaner beauties of the Nigjit, 
 
•1H£ 
 
 VOCAL LYRE 
 
 HERE'S THE BOWEK. 
 Bf.KE'S the bovver she loved so much 
 
 And liere s the tree she planted , 
 Here's the harp she used to tottch. 
 
 Oh ! how that touch, enciwntcd ! 
 Roses nGw unheeded sigh, 
 
 Where's the hand to wreath thena <* 
 Songs around neglected lis. 
 
 Where's the lip to breathe thfiiai 
 
 Spring may bloom, but she we lo^ts^ 
 
 Ne'er shall feel its sweetness , 
 Time, that once so fleetly moved, 
 
 Now hath lost its fleetness 
 years were days when here sh« stray'd, 
 
 Days were moments near her ; 
 Heav2n ne'er formed a brighici maid. 
 
 Nor wep» a dearer. 
 
 THE HARP THAT ONCE 
 
 The harp that once through lara's hall* 
 
 The Soul of Music shed. 
 Now hangs as mute on Tara's wails 
 
 As if that soul were fled. 
 So sleeps the pride of former days. 
 
 So glory's thrill is o'er. 
 
1? VOCAL LYRB. 
 
 And hoarts that once beat high for prwM 
 
 Now feel that pulse no more, 
 No more to chiefs and ladies bright 
 
 The h»rp of Tara swells, 
 The chord, alone, that breaks at right 
 
 Its tale of ruin tells 
 So Freedom now so seldom wakes, 
 
 The only throb she gives 
 Is when some heart indignant breaks 
 
 To show that still she lives. 
 
 T. MOORE. 
 
 IX DEATH'S TERRIFIC ICY 
 
 ARMS. 
 In death's terrific icy arms 
 
 The brave illustiious Nelson lies ; 
 H3's free from care and war's alarms. 
 Sees not our tears, nor bears our cries. 
 Cold is his heart where valour reign'd, 
 
 Mute is the tongue that joy inspired, 
 Still is the arm that victory gain'd, 
 
 And dim the eye that glory fireJ. 
 Too mean for him a world like this, 
 
 He's landed on that happy shore, 
 Where all the brave partake of bliss. 
 And heroes meet to part no more. 
 
 HON. C. J. FOS 
 
 6IXCE THE FIRST DAWN. 
 
 SlNCK the first dawn of reason that beam'a on 
 
 my mind, 
 And taught me how favour'd by fourtune my V>t, 
 To share that good fortune I still was inclinea. 
 And impart to who wan what I wanteo not, 
 
V06AL LVRE. 13 
 
 'Tis a maxim entitled to every one's pra:se. 
 When a man feels distress, like a man to re 
 lieve him, 
 And my motto, though simple, means more 
 than it says, 
 
 May we ne'er want a friend, nor a bolUo t4 
 give him 
 The heart by deceit or ingratitude rent. 
 Or by poverty bow'd, though of evils the 
 last, 
 The smile of a Giend may invite to content. 
 And we all know content is an excellent 
 feast. 
 *Tis a maxim entitled to every one's praise 
 When a man feels distress, like a man to re- 
 lieve him, 
 
 And my motto, though simple, &c. 
 
 DIBDIK 
 
 THE FLOWER GIRL. 
 
 FoHBiD it kind heaven that my parent should 
 sigh. 
 While I can sell flowers in the street; 
 My poorlittle sisters too surely would die, 
 Did I cease to procme them some meat, 
 Then buy my i<vvKot flowers, and shield Of 
 from sorrow 
 What I earn to-day we must live on to-morrow 
 Ah, had not my father been killed in the war, 
 
 And left us both friendless and poor, 
 I should not thus wander with flowers so far, 
 And cry them at every door, 
 
 Then buy my sweet flowers, Ac 
 My mother, alas, siaoe my father is dead, 
 
I4 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 Is almost deprived of her sight, 
 And I for my sister and her to get btem 
 Cull flowers as soon as 'tis light, 
 Then buy my sweet flowerg, £fc. 
 
 WHEN LOVELY WOMAW 
 
 When lovely woman stoops to folly, 
 
 And finds too late that men betray, 
 What charm can soothe her melancholy ? 
 
 What art can wash her guilt away ? 
 The only way her guilt to cover, 
 
 To hide her shame from every eye, 
 To give repentance to her lover. 
 
 And wring his bosom is — to die. 
 
 GOLDSMIIH. 
 
 DIOGENES, SURLY AND PROUDt 
 
 Diogenes, surly and proud, 
 
 Who snarl'd at the Macedon youth. 
 Delighted in wine thai was good. 
 
 Because in good wine ^nere was truth ? 
 But growing as poor as a Job, 
 
 Unable to purchase a flask, 
 He chose for his mansion a tub, 
 
 And lived by the scent of the cask. 
 
 Heraclitus ne'er would deny 
 
 A bumper to clwrish his heart; 
 And when he was maudlin would cry. 
 
 Because he had emptied his quarC 
 Though some are foolish to think 
 
 He wej-.t at mer5's follies and vie*, 
 iTwas only bis custom to drink 
 
 Till tb« liquor flawed out of hi» tpm, 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 16 
 
 Democritus always was glad 
 
 To tipple and cherish the soul t 
 Would laugh like a man that was mad. 
 
 When over a good flowing bowi. 
 As long as his cellar was stored, 
 
 The liquor he'd merrily quafifi 
 And when he was drunk as a lord, 
 
 At them that were sober he'd laugh. 
 Wise Solon, who carefully gave 
 
 Good laws to Athens of old, 
 And thought the rich Croesus a slave. 
 
 Though a king, to his coffers of gold. 
 He delighied in plentiful bowls ; 
 
 But drinking, much talk would decline, 
 Because it was the custom cf fools 
 
 To prattle much over their wine. 
 Old Socrates ne'er was content 
 
 Till a bottle had heightened his joys, 
 Who in cups to the oracle went, 
 
 Or he ne'er had been counted so wise. 
 Late hours he most certainly loved; 
 
 Made wine the delight of his lite ; 
 Or Xantippe would never have proved 
 
 Such a damnable scold of a wife. 
 Grave Seneca, fam'd for his parts, 
 
 v\MiO tortur'd the bnlly of Rome, 
 Grew wise o'er his cnps and his quarts. 
 
 Which he drank like a raiser at home ^ 
 And to show that he lov'd wine that was good, 
 
 (To the last we may truly aver it,) 
 He tinctured his bath with his blood, 
 
 So fancied he died in his claret. 
 Pythagoias did silence enjoin 
 
 On his pupils who wisdom would seek, 
 
16 TOoALLYRE. 
 
 Because that he tippled the wine. 
 
 Till himself was unable to speak : 
 And when he was whimsical grown, 
 
 With sipping his plentiful bowls, 
 By the strength of the juice in his crown, 
 
 He conneiv'd the transmigration of 90u]a. 
 Copernicus too, like the rest, 
 
 Believ'd there was wisdom in wine, 
 And thought that a cup of the best 
 
 Made reason the brighter to shine ; 
 With wine he replenish'd his veins, 
 
 And made his philosophy reel ; 
 Then fancied the world, like his brains 
 
 Turn'd round like a chariot wheel. 
 Aristotle, the roaster of arts. 
 
 Had been but a dunce without wine. 
 And what we ascribo to his parts 
 
 Is due to the juice of the vine. 
 His belly, as most writers agree, 
 
 Was big as a watering trough ; 
 He therefore leapt into the sea, 
 
 Because he'd have liquor enough. 
 Old Plato was reckon'd divine, 
 
 He fondly to wisdom was pror>e ; 
 But had it not been for good wine, 
 
 His merits had never been known. 
 By wine we are generous made, 
 
 It furnishes fancy with wings ; 
 Without it we ne'er should have bad 
 
 Philosophers., poets, or kinks. 
 
 SWEET SEDUCER. 
 
 Sweet seducer, blandly smiling. 
 Charming stdl, and still beguiling. 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 17 
 
 Ofl 1 swore 10 love thee never, 
 Yet I love Uiee more than ever. 
 Why that liltle wanton blushing. 
 Glancing eye, and bosom flushing t 
 Flushing warm, and wily glanciu^. 
 All is lovely, all entrancing ! 
 Turn away those lips of b!isi©«, 
 1 arn poison'd by thy kissbS , 
 Yet again, ah ! turn them to me, 
 Ruin's sweet when they undo me t 
 Oh ! be less and less enchanting 
 Let some little grace be wanting ; 
 Let my eyes when I'm expiring, 
 Gaxe a while without admiring. 
 
 Tr MOOKS. 
 
 OLD MARY, HER POOil ETOS- 
 BAND 
 
 Old Mary, her poor husband dead. 
 
 And buried but a week ; 
 Tir'a of her fate, with hobbling gait, 
 
 The parson went to seek. 
 " I'll tell you, sir," says she, " the truth, 
 
 My poor man's dead and gone 
 Our servant John's a comly youth,— 
 
 Ought I to marry John ?" 
 The parson cried, who quickly hae'* 
 
 She'd Eot his coun'sel hear, 
 " The proverb tells you what ro d(X 
 
 This knotty point to cliar, 
 " As the fool thinks. 
 So the bell tinks ; 
 So when the bell shall ring Hnon, 
 
18 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 Tcke care you don't mistake the soun.i : 
 They'll tell you, as the peal goes round. 
 If you should marry John. 
 
 Now Mary listens to psjf.h bell, 
 " Hey I that's a knell that toU'd i 
 
 'Tis not lor me, thank Heaven ! well, well, 
 I'm not vet quite so old. 
 
 " But of a burying should you think, 
 
 They say a wedding's near 
 I hope the bells will sweetly tink. 
 
 That I should wed my dear.'' 
 
 At length the ringers raise her hopes. 
 
 And all her senses charm : 
 And as they singly pull the ropes, 
 
 Her aged blood gets warm •, 
 
 But as the fool thinks, 
 So the beli tinks ; 
 And now the sprightly peal comes oo. 
 While Mary, as they tug away, 
 Cries, •' Lovely bells, how plain they »ay 
 ' Do Mary, marry John.' " 
 
 Now at both ends the candle's burn'd, 
 
 She's beggar'd to a souse ; 
 Each thing is topsyturvy turn'd, 
 
 Out of the window goes the house. 
 
 " I cannot this distress survive ; 
 
 Wl)at scandal and disgrace ! 
 Would my first husband were alive, 
 
 Or I were in his place. 
 
 »• A curse upon the fatal day 
 
 I listen'd to the bells. 
 That took my reason quite away- 
 
VOCAL LYRE 19 
 
 Just like PO many spells ; 
 
 " But as the fool thinks, 
 So the bell tinks ; 
 Why what must I be thinking ou, 
 To fancy as they rang away, 
 The bells so stupid were to sa^j' 
 That I should marry John ?" 
 
 Straight to the parson Mary goes, 
 
 And thickly lays it on ; 
 " You are the cause of all my woes ; 
 
 You married me to John." 
 
 " Nay, nay, to lay the blame on me, 
 
 Good Mary is unkind • 
 1 never yet advis'd the sea, 
 
 A woman, or the wind. 
 
 ■' Hark, hark, the bells are ringing now 
 They sound with might and main ; 
 
 I what they say can hear — Canst thou .'* 
 I hear 'em, sir, too plain. 
 
 " But a? the fool thinks, 
 So the bell tinks , 
 But folly 'twas that sat me on, 
 Intent upon my foolish freak ; 
 They cry, as plain as they can speak, 
 ' Don't Mary, mirry John,' " 
 
 THAT MAN WHO, FOR LIFE. 
 
 That man who for life, bless'd in a wife,. 
 
 Is sure in a happy condition .- [still • 
 Go thi( gs how they will, she sticks by him 
 
 She's connforter, friend, and physician. 
 
 Pray where is the joy to trifle and toy. 
 
20 VOCAL LYRE 
 
 Yet dread some disaster from beauty / 
 13ut sweet is the bliss of a conjugal kiss, 
 
 Where lave mingles pleasure with duly. 
 One extravagant whore will cost a man mo«€ 
 
 Than twenty good wives that are saving \ 
 For wives they will spare, that their childreu 
 may share ; 
 
 But jades are eternally craving. 
 
 THE MAN WHO, FOR LIFE. 
 
 Thk man who, for life, is plagued with a 
 wife 
 Is sure in a wretched condition ; 
 Go things how they will, she sticks by hlra 
 still, 
 And death is his only phj'sician. 
 
 To trifle and toy is a!l the man's joy 
 
 Incited by love or by beauty ; 
 But where is the bliss of a conjugal kiss, 
 
 When passion is prompted by duty ? 
 
 Sotb.e dog who possess'd a bone of the best 
 May lick it, or leave at pleasure ; 
 
 But if to his tail it is tied, without fail, 
 He is harass'u and plagued beyond mea« 
 sure. 
 
 GOOD PEOPLE, ATTBXD. 
 
 <jooD people, attend to my lay , 
 I sixigpf a late inundation. 
 
 That like to have carried away 
 All the Wigs and long robes in the natioo ; 
 
 While thinking of no harm at all 
 But a few wretched people's undoing, 
 
 Fatlifir Thames enter'd WeatminBter Halt, 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 2] 
 
 Threatening all law and justice with rum, 
 But let not their terrors these lawyers con- 
 found ; 
 The old proverb decrees they can never be 
 drown'd. 
 
 Of the U-'ighl universal it spread 
 Conception can ne'er form a notion ; 
 
 Wigs bristled upright on each head, 
 And counsellors stood without motion : 
 
 The tide that for no nvan will stay. 
 While the clamour grew louder and louder, 
 
 From every tiewig wash'd away 
 Common senes, with the curls and the pow- 
 der ; 
 But why thus should water these lawyers con- 
 found, 
 When the proverb decrees they can never be 
 drown'd ? 
 
 Cries one, they're found out in their 
 tricks. 
 No wonder they put such despair on ; 
 
 They fancy the Thames is the Styx, 
 And each old crazy waterman Charon : 
 
 Tlrdt they'll si on before Minos be brought, 
 Wliere nought avails twisting and turnitig, 
 And wbeie tiiey'll in tliis case^be taught 
 That drovvnii^g's an alias for burning ; 
 Yet at no rate sIk uld water these lav/yers con- 
 found ; 
 They may burn, to be sure, but tiiey cannot be 
 drown'd. 
 
 Anj now, by the current press'd liard, 
 Kach scramliles to enter some boat in, 
 While scatter'd all o'er Palace Yard, 
 
22 VOCAL LfRE. 
 
 Wigs, briefs, and long robes are seen float' 
 ing, 
 In iliis chaos of justice, thieves, clerks, 
 Jews, counsel, the boats are all trimiaing ; 
 
 While a sailor cries, Dani'me these sliarks 
 Are your finest of fishes for svvmimJnE; ; 
 Then why should their terrors to see lawyers 
 
 confound, 
 When whatever awaits them, they cannot be 
 drown'd ? 
 
 At length, safe arrived from the storm, 
 Without fate or fortune once thanking, 
 They swore that the city, next term, 
 They'd endite, for the Thames not embank- 
 ing; 
 That the wind that blew nobody good 
 Was an ill one — thus parted these brothers f 
 And themselves scarce escap'd from the 
 flood. 
 Went horae to brew mischief for others 
 And furnish a laugh for the public all round, 
 That thfiy should fear water who cannot be 
 drown'd. 
 
 DIBDIN 
 
 I SAW THE VIRTUOUS MAN. 
 From Carnoens. 
 I saw the virtuous man contend 
 
 With life's unnuniber'd woes ; 
 And he was poor— without a friend, 
 
 Prese'd by a thousand foPs. 
 J saw the passion's pliant slave, 
 
 io gallant time and gny j 
 
TOCAL LYRE 23 
 
 His course was pleasure's placid ware, 
 His life a summer's day. 
 
 And I was caught in folly's snare. 
 
 And join'd her giddy train — 
 But found her soon the nurse ofcaM 
 
 And pimjshaient, and pain. 
 
 Tliere surely is some guiding care. 
 
 Which rightly suffers wrong, 
 Gives vice to bloom its little hour 
 
 But virtue late and long. 
 
 LORD STRANGFORD. 
 
 THE MAD DOG. 
 
 He ran to the farm yard, and there bit a hog 
 That in less than ten minutes bark'd just like 
 
 a dig; 
 The bog bit ahorse that was just come from 
 
 hunting, 
 And presently after the horse fell a grunting , 
 Such grunting and barking, and barking and 
 
 grunting, 
 The village will never have done with the talk 
 
 on't, 
 Though the wisest man there cannot make hog 
 
 or dog on't. 
 
 A fine brindle cow near a hay-stack was 
 
 straying, 
 Which, bit by the horse, w^s soon after heard 
 
 neighing ; 
 The cow bit a man, who was driving his plough 
 When he walk'd on all fours, and low'd ju* 
 like the cow, 
 
24 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 Such lowing and neighing, and barking and 
 
 lowing, 
 And grunling and barking, and neighing and 
 
 lowing, 
 The village will never have done with the talk 
 
 on't 
 Though the wisest man there cannot make hcg 
 
 or dog on't. 
 The man bit a jackass, which soon after ran 
 Haifa mile on two legs, and talk'd jastlike 
 
 the man ; 
 The jackass encounter'd a sheep in his wa)'. 
 And 'tis not to be mention'd how loud he did 
 
 bray, 
 Such braying and talking, and talking and 
 
 braying, 
 And barking and grunting, and lowing and 
 
 neighing, 
 The village will never have done with the talk 
 
 on't, 
 Though the wisest man there cannot make hog 
 
 or dog on't. 
 The sheep bit a wolf which was soon heard to 
 
 bleat I 
 The wolf more dumb things than I've time to 
 
 repeat ; 
 But the worst that was bit was, alas I my poor 
 
 wench ! 
 Heaven keep us, I say, from mad dogs and thg 
 
 J'rench ! 
 Such bleating and talking, and barking, and 
 
 braying. 
 And grunting, and bleating, and lowing, and 
 
 neighing, 
 I'he village will never have done with the talk 
 
 on't. 
 
OCALLYRE. 25 
 
 Though the wisest man there cannot make 
 hog or dog on t. 
 
 DiBDIN. 
 
 TOM TACKLE WAS NOBLE. 
 
 Torn Tackle was noble, was true to his word, 
 If merit brought titles, Tom might be a lord, 
 How gayly his bark through Life's ocean 
 
 would sail. 
 Truth furnish'd the rigging, and Honour the 
 
 gale. 
 Vet Tom had a lailing, if ever man bad, 
 Tlnit. good as he was, made him all that was 
 
 had; 
 He was paltry and pitiful, scurvy and mean, 
 And the snivelingest scoundrel that ever was 
 
 seen ; 
 For so said the girls, and the landlords 'long 
 
 shore ) 
 Would you know what his fault was Tom 
 
 Tackle was poor ! 
 
 Twas once on a time, when we took a galleon 
 And the crew touch'd the agent for cash to 
 
 some tune, 
 Tom a trip took to goal, an old messmate to 
 
 free, 
 And ftnir thankful pmttlers soon sat on his knee 
 Then Tom was an angel, downright from 
 
 heav'n sent ! 
 While they'd hands he his goodness should ne 
 
 ver repent ; — 
 Returned from next voyage, he bemoan'd his 
 
 sad case, 
 To find his dear friend shut th« door in bit 
 
26 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 Why, d'ye wonder ? cried one, you're senr'c 
 right to be sure ; 
 
 Once Tom Tackle was rich — now Tom Tac- 
 kle is poor ! 
 
 I be*nt, you see, versed in higli maxims and 
 
 sich 
 But don't the honour concern poor and rich ! 
 rf h don't come from good beasts, da'me 'twas 
 
 Tom 
 Yet some how or another Torn never did right, 
 None knew better the time when to soare or 
 
 to fight ; 
 He, by finding a leak, once presev'd crew and 
 
 ship, 
 Sav'd the Commodore s Life — then he made 
 
 such lare flip ! 
 And yet for all this no one Tom could endure^ 
 I lancies how t'was — because he was poor. 
 
 At last an old Shipmate, that Tom migln haii 
 
 land. 
 Who saw that his heart sail'd too fast for his 
 
 hand, 
 In the riding of Comfort a mooring to find, 
 Reefd the sails of Tom's fortune, that shook 
 
 in the wind ; 
 He gave him enoufi;h through Life's ocean to 
 
 steer, 
 Be the oreeze what it might, steady, thus, or 
 
 no near ; 
 His pittance is daily, and yet Tom imparts 
 What he can to his friends—And may all ho 
 
 Best hearts. 
 
TOCAL LYRE. 27 
 
 Like Tom TacRle, have what keeps the woll 
 
 froai the door ; 
 Just enough to be generous — to much to be— 
 
 poor 
 
 DiBDiN. 
 
 OLD TOWLER. 
 
 Bright chanticleer proclaims the dai^'n. 
 
 And spangles neck the thorn ; 
 The lowing herds now quit the lawn, 
 
 The lark spiings from the corn, 
 Oogs, huntsmen, rouudthe window thron-j 
 
 Fleet Towler leads the cry; 
 Arise, the burden of their song — 
 
 This day a stag must die ' 
 With a hey ho, chivey ? 
 Hark forward, hark forward, tantivy, &C. 
 The cordial takes its merry round, 
 
 The laugh and joke prevail ; 
 The huntsman bl^ws a jovial sound, 
 
 The dogs snuff up the gale ; 
 Tlie upland winds they sweep along, 
 
 O'er fields, through brakes they fly ; 
 Thft game is rous'd, too true the song— 
 
 This day a stag must die ! 
 
 With a hey, bo, dc®. 
 Poor stag I the dogs tby haunches gore. 
 
 The tears run down thy face ; 
 The huntiman's pleasure is no mors t 
 
 His jtiys were in the chase ; 
 Alike the sportsman in the tov/n, 
 
 The virgin game in view, 
 Are full content to run thera down. 
 
 They Uien in turn pursue. 
 
 With a hey, ho, few 
 
$8 VOCAL LYRE* 
 
 HONEST TOM. 
 
 The wind was hush'd, the fleecy wav« 
 Scarcely vessel's couldleave, 
 When in the mizen-top his stand 
 Tom Cluljne taking; espied the land. 
 Oh sweet reward for all his ^nil I ^ 
 Once more he views his native soil, 
 Once more he thanks indulgent fate, 
 That brings him to his bonny Kate 
 
 Soft as the sij^hs of Zephyr flower, 
 Tender and plaintive as her wo, 
 Serene was the attentive eye, 
 T>iat heard Tom's Bonny Kitty srievc, 
 ■* Ob, what," cried she, " my pain ? 
 He'ssv/allow'd in the greedy main •, 
 Ah, never shall I welcome home. 
 With lender joy, my ho est Tom T* 
 
 Now high upon the faithful shroud, 
 The land awhile that seem'd a cloud. 
 While objects Irom the mist arise, 
 A least present Tom's longing eyes. 
 A riband, near his heart which lay 
 Now see him on his hat display, 
 Th-e given sign'to show that fate 
 Kad brought him safe to bonny Kate. 
 
 Near to a ciiff whose heights command 
 A prospect of the shelly strand, 
 "While Kitty fate and fortune blam'd, 
 Sudden with rapture she exclaim'd, 
 " But see, oh Heaven ! a ship in view. 
 My Tom appears among tlie crew : 
 The pledge he swore to bring safe home 
 Streams in his hat— 'tis honest Tom !" 
 
 What now remains were easy told » 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 29 
 
 Toi^ -s-sjnirs. Ilia pockets lined with gold, 
 Now lich ersouc,h no more to roam, 
 To serve his king, he slays at hoinc : 
 Recounts cacli toil, and shews eacn scar ; 
 While Kitty and her constint lar, 
 'vVitii jceverence tencli to bless their fates 
 Young hones-t Toms and boriny Kates. 
 
 DiBDiN* 
 
 O NANCY, WILT Tl-IOir GO 
 WITH ME.a 
 V .\Ancy, vf'ih thou go vvitl) me. 
 
 IN'or sij^h to leave the flaunting towr. ? 
 (,'nn silent glens have charms for thee. 
 
 Til* lowly cot and russet gown ? 
 Xo longer dress'd in silken sheen, 
 
 IVo longer deck'd with jewels rare 
 Say, canst thou quit each courtly scene. 
 
 Where thou wert the fairest of the fjtk * 
 
 O Nancy I when thou'i t far away, 
 
 Wilt thou cast a wish heiiind ? 
 Say canst tboa face the parching ray, 
 
 Nor shrink before the wintry wind ? 
 O can thats'jfi and gentle mion 
 
 Extremes of hardship learn to bear. 
 .Vorsad regret each eourtly scene, 
 
 Were thou weil fairest of ilie fair ? 
 
 O ?>ancy, canst thou love so true 
 
 Througii jjerils keen with me to go. 
 Or, when the swain mishap shall rae. 
 
 To share the pang o(" wo ? 
 Sav. should disease or pain befall, 
 
 Wi'l thou assume ihe nurse's ea re, 
 ^.'orwistfnl those gay seenes recal] 
 
 V.liere tliou wext fairest of the fair ^ 
 
30 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 And when at last, thy love shall die, 
 
 Will thou receive his nartin^ breath ? 
 Wilt ttiou repress each struggling sigh, 
 
 AntI cheer with smiles the bed of deatk i* 
 Mid wilt thou o'er my breathless clay 
 
 Strew flowers, and drop the tender tear ; 
 Nor then regret those scenes so gay, 
 
 Where thou wert fairest of the fair ? 
 
 PERCY. 
 
 SAY, FLUTTERING HEART. 
 
 Say fluttering heart, 
 Why, afterdays of swecl delight, 
 Where conscious innocence bore part. 
 Serene as smiling morn, peaceful as silvef 
 
 night. 
 Or gay as gaudy noon, when Phoebus' beaai 
 shone bright ; 
 Say, how one hour. 
 One little instant could remove 
 
 The vacant careless joy ? what poweff 
 Infiict the torments we now prove ; 
 Cynthia forbid it ever should be love. 
 
 L)ear goddess, for fair honour's sake. 
 Relieve the tornflenls we partake \ 
 Teach us to cure our amoiousftres, 
 Oi else permit us our desires. 
 
 And this with zealous care pertt»rm. 
 
 Swift as the wind that rules the storm; 
 
 Swift as the glowing god of day 
 
 Darts from afar a downward ray; 
 
 And so shall votaries to their praise 
 
 A thousand, thousand aUars raise. DiiiBlft 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 31 
 
 NOBLE BETTY 
 
 O LliT us swim in blood of grapes, 
 
 The riches oftheci y, 
 And solemnize upon our knees, 
 
 A health to noble Betty. 
 
 The muses, with the milk of queens, 
 
 PJave fed this comely creature, 
 That she's become a princely dame, 
 
 A miracle of nature. 
 
 The graces all, both great and small, 
 
 Were not by half so pretty ; 
 The queen of love, that reigns above. 
 
 Could not compare with Betty. 
 
 Had David seen this lovely one, 
 
 No sin he had committed, 
 He had not lain with Bethsheba, 
 
 Nor slain the valiant Hittite. 
 
 Had Solomon. Heaven's minion, 
 
 Vicw'd her perfections over, 
 The Sheba's queen rejected had lieen. 
 
 Though clad with gold of Cj)h;r. 
 
 The Dons of Spain, could they oblnin 
 
 This magazine of pleasure, 
 Tliey'd never go to Mexico, 
 
 For its Indian treasure 
 
 The Christian king would dance and sJng 
 
 To have her at his pleasure ; 
 And would confine great mazarine 
 
 Within tiie banks of Tiber. 
 
 The Turk, for all his great empire, 
 Would prostrate him heSorv licr , 
 
32 VOCAL LYRE 
 
 He woirid lay down his golden crown. 
 And goddess-like adore iier. 
 
 Her ej'es arefu?! of majesty, 
 None but a prince can own her ; 
 
 Sfis's fitted for an emperor, 
 A diadem must crown her. 
 
 SHOULD ATJLD ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 Sroctld auld acquaintance he forgot 
 
 Though they returned with scars, 
 These are the noble hcio'slot. 
 
 Ootain'd in glorious wars : 
 Welcome, my Varo, to my brea;-*. 
 
 Thy arms about me twine ; 
 And make me once again as blcss'ci 
 
 As I was lang syne. 
 
 Methinks around us, on each bough, 
 
 A thousand Cupids play; 
 Whilst through the groves I walk "Vfithyoa, 
 
 Each object makes me gay : 
 Since your return the sun and moon 
 
 With brighter beams do shine. 
 Streams murmer softly while they run, 
 
 As they did lang syne. 
 
 Despise the court and din of slate; 
 
 Let that to their share fall. 
 Who can esteem their slavery great, 
 
 While bounded like a I)all . 
 But sunk in love, u pon my arms 
 
 Let your brave head recline ; 
 Wo'il please ourselves v/ith mutual chs-rm*, 
 
 As we did lang syne. 
 
VOCAL LYRE. i^3 
 
 O er moor and dale, with your gay friend, 
 
 You may pursue the chase 
 And, after a blithe bottle, end 
 
 All cares in my embrace: 
 And, in a vacant rainy day 
 
 You shall be vVhoUymine : 
 V^'e'll make tlie hours run smooth away. 
 
 And, laugii atlaog syne, 
 
 The hero, pleased with the sweet air 
 
 And sjgnsof generous love, 
 Which had been utter'd by the fair, 
 
 Bow'd to the povrers above ; 
 ^'ext day, with glad consent and haste. 
 
 They 'i-ir.:)ach'd the sacred shrine 
 Where the i^ood priest the couple bless'd. 
 
 And put them out of time. 
 
 jLOONEY MACTWOLTER. 
 
 O, whack'. Cupid's a raannikm ;' 
 Smack on my heart he hit me apolter, 
 
 Good lack, Judy O'Flannikni.^ 
 
 Dearly she loves nate Looney Mactwoltsr, 
 
 Judy's my darling, my kisses she suffers, 
 She's an heiress that's cleat 
 J'or her father sells beer : 
 He keeps the sign of the cow and the sr.u& 
 She's so smart 
 From my he ait 
 I cannot bolt her, 
 Oh, whack, Judy O'Flaanikin ! 
 She is the girl for Loony Mactwolter » 
 Ob, Whack, ^" 
 
34 VOCAL LYRE 
 
 Oh, home . good news, i need a bit ! 
 
 We'd correspond, but learning would choke 
 her. 
 
 Mavrone ! — I cannot read a bit ; 
 J«uJy can't tell a pen from a poker 
 
 Judy's so constant, I'll never forsake her ; 
 She's true as the moon ; — 
 Only one afternoon 
 
 I caught her asleep with a humpback shoema- 
 ker, 
 
 Ob, she's smart, &c. 
 
 COLMAN 
 
 WITH AN HONEST OLD FKIEND, 
 
 With an honest old friend, and a merry old 
 
 song, 
 And flask of old port, let me sit the night long. 
 And laugh at the malice of those who repine, 
 That they must swig porter, whilst lean drink 
 
 wine. 
 
 I envy no mortal, though ever so great, 
 Nor scorn I a wretch for his lowly estate : 
 But what I abhor, they estsemas a curse, 
 Is poorness of spirit, not poorness m purse. 
 
 Then dare to be generous, dauntless, and gay. 
 Let's merrily pass life's remainder away ; 
 Upheld by our friends, we our foes may des- 
 pise, 
 For the more we are envied the higher: we rise 
 
 H. CARRY. 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 33 
 
 TOM BOWLING. 
 
 Here a sheer hulk lies poor Tom Bowhng, 
 
 The darling of our crew, 
 No more he'il hear the tempest howling, 
 
 Fur death has hroach'd iiim too. 
 His form was of ihe manliest beauty, 
 
 His lieart uas kind and soft. 
 Faithful below he did his duty 
 
 But now he's gone aloft. 
 
 Tom never from his word departed, 
 
 His viitues were so rare, 
 His friends were many and kind-hearted. 
 
 His Pol! w,ts good and true. 
 And tlien he'd sing so blithe and jolly 
 
 Ah, many's the time and oft ! 
 l?ut mirth IS tnrn'd to melanciioly. 
 
 For I'om has e;one aloft. 
 
 ei s^tia!) poor I om bnd plea';ant weather 
 
 When he who all commandi?, 
 Shall j;ive, to call life's crew together, 
 
 1 he woid to pipe all hands. 
 Thus death, wiio kings and tars despatchea. 
 
 In vnin Tom's life has doff'd, 
 For, though his body's under hatches 
 
 His soul is gone aloft. 
 
 WHAT IS GLORY- 
 
 What 19 glory ? Wi at is fims * 
 Tliata saadow, this a name, 
 Eesileis mutt^ls to deceive. 
 C 
 
OCAL LYRE. 36- 
 
 Are they renown'd, can ihey be great, 
 Who hurl their fellowoieatures' fate, 
 That jnothers' cliildren, wives, may grieve? 
 
 Ask smiling honor to proclaim, 
 
 What is glory ? what is fame ? 
 Hark! the glad mandate strikes the listening, 
 ear ; 
 
 " The truest glory to the bosom dear 
 Is when the soul starts soft compassion's teas 
 
 What are riches, pomp and power ^ 
 
 Gewgaws that endure their hour. 
 
 Wretched mortals t-> allure. 
 
 Can greatness reach the idly vain, 
 
 liidulging iathe princely fane, 
 
 Beaf to the miseries of the poor? 
 
 Ask smiling reason to proclaim. 
 
 What is glory ? what is fume ? 
 
 Hark! the sweet mandate strikes the listening 
 
 ear, 
 
 ♦' The truest glory to the bosom dear 
 Is when the soul starts soft compassion's tear , 
 
 YOU MEANER BEAUTIES. 
 
 ITou meaner l)€auties of the night 
 
 That poorly satisfy our eyes, 
 More by your number than your light, 
 
 You common people of the skies, 
 What are you when the moon shall rise f 
 
 Ve violets that first appear. 
 By vour pure purple mantles knowB> 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 37 
 
 Like the virgins of the yeaiB, 
 
 As if the spring were all your own ; 
 What are you when the rose is blown ! 
 
 Ye curious chanters of the wood, 
 That warble forth dame Nature's laj8, 
 
 Thinking your passions understood 
 By your weak accents : what's your praise, 
 When Philomell her voice shall raise 1 
 
 So when my mistress shall be seen 
 In svveetnesse of her looks and minde, 
 
 By virtue first, then choyce a queen ; 
 Tell me, if she was not design'd 
 Theeclypse and glory of her kind ? 
 
 SitH. WoottoH. 
 
 MEG OF WAPPING. 
 
 'Twas Landlady Meg, that made such rare flip 
 
 Pull away, pull away, hearties ! 
 At Wapping she lived, at the sign of the ship, 
 
 Where tars meet in such jolly parties, 
 She'd fhine at the play, and she'd jig at the ball 
 
 All rigg'd out so gsy and so topping ; fall, 
 For she marrie-d six husbands, and buried theiTi 
 Pull away, pull away, pull away, 
 I say. 
 
 What d'ye think of my Meg of Wapping- ? 
 
 The first was Old Bluff, with a swinging large 
 purse ; 
 Pull away, pull away, jolly boys ! 
 He was cast away ; — said Meg, who cares a 
 curse ' 
 
38 VOCAL LYRlil. 
 
 As for giieving, why Lord, that's a folly, boyi 
 The second in command was blear eyed Ned, 
 
 While the surgeon ins limb was a lopping, 
 \ nine-poundei, came, and smack went nis 
 head. 
 Pull away, pull away, pull away, 
 I say, 
 Rare ntws for my Meg of Wapping 1 
 Then she married to bam, and Sara loved a 
 sup, 
 Pull away, pull away, brother ! 
 So gi»>ggy Sam got, and the ship blew up, 
 
 And Meg liad to look fo* ancther. 
 The fourth was l>ol<i Ben.wiio at danger would 
 ^mile, 
 Till his courage a cjocodile stopping, 
 Made bin breaia'aston ben, on ti.e banks of the 
 Nile, 
 Pull away, pull away, pul! away, 
 I say. 
 What a fortunate Meg of Wapping. 
 Stay, who w>as the fifth ? Oh 'twas Dick s© 
 neat, 
 Pull away, pull away, so mv'rry . 
 And the savages Dick botn kJU'd and eat, 
 And poor Mfg she was forced to take Jerry. 
 Death ag'Un stood her friend ; fcr. killM in a 
 fray, 
 He a.'so tl)e grave chance<t to pop in ; 
 bo now with my song I shall soon belay. 
 Pull away, pull away, pull away. 
 Belay 
 The six h-'sbands of Meg of WappJng. 
 i n\ I did not teil you how that she married wb- 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 89 
 
 Pull away, pull away, so neatly I 
 Twas honest Tom Tup, and he sent her to 
 heaven, 
 And her strong box rummaged sweetly; 
 For Meg, growing old a fond dotaid proved, 
 
 And mnst after a boy needs be hopping; 
 So she popp'.l off— and Tern, witii the girl that 
 he loved, 
 
 Pull away, pull away, pull away, T say, 
 Spent the shiners of i\ed of Wapping. 
 
 WIIAT IS LOVE. 
 
 What is love ? an idle passion ; 
 
 Sage advisers call it so: 
 Can 1 treat i in their fashion? 
 
 Honest nature answers, no I 
 
 Wise ones, cea-e ; in vain your preaching ; 
 
 Age h5is turn'd your hearts to snow, 
 Can I profit by your teaching? 
 
 Honest nature answers. No. 
 
 TREE OF LIBERTY. 
 
 When Freedom knew nor where to rove, 
 Fwim oonquer'd Grpece ami croaning Rome 
 
 At random driven like Noah's dove, 
 Without a shelter or a liome : 
 
 The expanded world sht- viewM, whore best 
 
40 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 She might repose her weary foot , 
 Now this our isle, set up her rest, 
 
 And bade the spreading oak taiie root { 
 Bade it adorn the land, and be, 
 Fair England's Tree of Liberty. 
 
 Thus spoke the goddess ;— This fair Tree, 
 
 The towering forest's kingly boast, 
 Let niy behests kept sacred be. 
 
 This tree shall guard your sea-gkt coast 
 Freedom's behests are these ; — To know 
 
 No faction, no cabal, no cause, 
 From whose pestiferous l)reath may grow 
 
 Aught 'gainst the monarch or the laws • 
 Keep sacred these, the oak shall be 
 Fair England's Tree of Liberty. 
 
 Its ftiendly arms that, on their way, 
 
 Those succor who its aid employ, 
 A faithful portrait shall display 
 
 Of England's hospitable shoie 
 Of England's courage, this fair tree, 
 
 A great example to impart, 
 To succor law and liberiy, 
 
 Shall make a rampart of its heart ; 
 Hail, sacred oak I then deign to bo, 
 Fair England's Tree of liberty. 
 
 Then catch the enthusiastic stram. 
 Hail, freedom's tree in fervent hymns, 
 
 That freely, on the awful main. 
 
 Launches in Britain's cause its limbs i 
 
 That mighty walls and bulwarks forms, 
 Whence England's thunder shall be hurl'd, 
 
 And, spite of battles and of storms, 
 
VOCAi;. LYRE. 41 
 
 H'hat bears our commerce through the world. 
 Hail, freedom's shrine ! still deign to be 
 Fair England's Tree of Liberty. 
 
 A CLERK I WAS* 
 
 •A clerk I was in London gay, 
 
 Jemmy linkum feedle, 
 And went in boots to see the play, 
 
 Merry fiddlem tweedle. 
 'i coarch'd the lobby, twirl'ii my stick, 
 
 Diddle, daddle, deedle ; 
 The girls all cried. He's quite the kick 
 
 O, Jemmy linkum feedle. 
 
 Hey, -for America T sail, 
 
 Yankee doodle.deedle. 
 The lailor hoys cried, Smoke his tailt 
 
 Jemmy linkum feedle. 
 On English belles I turned my baek, 
 
 Diddle, daddle, deedle. 
 And got a fair quite black. 
 
 Oh, twaddle, twaddle, tweedle i 
 
 Your London girls, with roguish trip,' 
 
 W-h-eedie, -wheedle, -wheedle. 
 Coast their pouting under lip 
 
 ^Fiddle, faddle, feedle. 
 My Wows would beat an hundred such 
 
 ;Diddle, daddle, deedle. 
 Whose under lip pouts twice as much, 
 
 Oil, pretty double, wheedkj ! 
 
 iEings I'll buy to deck her toe*, 
 Jeminy linkum feedle ^ 
 
i@ TOGAL LYRE. 
 
 A feather fine shall grace her nose, 
 
 Waving sidle, seedle, 
 With jefiiousy I ne ershall burst, 
 Who'd oteal my })one of bone-e? 
 A white Othello, I can trust 
 
 A dingy Desdeinona. 
 
 CAPTAIN WATTLE. 
 
 Did you ever hear of Captain Wattle ? 
 
 He was all for love and a little for the bottle. 
 
 V^'e know not, though pains we've taken to ic- 
 
 quire 
 If gupfiowder he invented, or the Thannes set 
 
 on fire. 
 If to inm was the centre of gravity known. 
 The longitude, or the philosopher's stone, 
 Or whether he studied from Bacon or Boyle, 
 CopeiBicus. Locke, Katerfelto, or Hoyle .■ 
 £ut this we have learned great labor and pain, 
 liiat he loved Miss Roe, and she loved hina 
 
 again. 
 
 Than sweet Miss Roe, none ever locked fier 
 
 cer, 
 ?he had bnt one eye, but that was a piercer 
 We know not for certainty, her education, 
 f she wrote, niended stockjngs, or settled the 
 
 nation, 
 \t cards if she liked whist, and swabbers or 
 
 voles, 
 )r at dinner loved pig, or steak on the co^ls , 
 Whether most of the Sappho she was or Tba 
 
 Itfbtris i 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 4S 
 
 Or if dancing was taught her by Hopkins or 
 
 Nestris ; 
 But, for your satisfaction this good news we've 
 
 obtained, 
 Th;it she loved captain Wattle, and be loved 
 
 hera^ain. 
 When wedded, he became lord and master de 
 
 peiid on't, 
 He had but one leg, but he'd a foot at the end 
 
 on't, 
 Wtiich, of government when she would faio 
 
 hold the bridle, 
 H" took special caution should never lie idle. 
 So, like most married folks 'twas my plague 
 
 and my chicken. 
 And sometimes a kissing and sometimes a 
 
 kicking; 
 Then for comfort a cordial she'd now and then 
 
 try, 
 Alternately bunging or piping her ey»!. 
 And these facts of this couple the history con- 
 tain. 
 For when he kick'd Miss Roe she kick'd him 
 
 again. 
 
 A SAILOH'S LIFE. 
 The wind blew hard, the sea ran high, 
 The dingy scud chove 'cross the sky, 
 A 1 was safe lash'd, the bowl was slun?. 
 When careless thus \ed Haulyard sung 
 A sailor's life's the !ife f >r me. 
 He takes his dut\ n eiri'y ; 
 If winds can whistle, he can sing, 
 StU eitlnul to his Iriead and king; 
 C2 
 
44 VOCAL LYRE 
 
 He gets beloved by all the ship, 
 Ar>d toasts his girl and drinJcs his flip« 
 Down topsails, boys, the gale cornea oa. 
 To strike top gallant yards they run, 
 And now to hand the sail prepared, 
 Ned cheerful sings upon the yard, 
 
 A sailor's life, &c. 
 
 A leak ! a leak ! come lads, be bold, 
 There's five feet water in the hold. 
 Eager on deck see baulyard junrrp, 
 And hark, while working at the pump-, 
 A sailer's 1 (c , &c. 
 
 And see! the vessel nought can save. 
 She strikes, and finds a watery grave. 
 Yet ned preserved, with a few more, 
 Sings, as he treads a foreign sho('«, 
 
 A sailor's life. Sec 
 
 And now iinnunfil)ered perils past.. 
 On land as well as sea— at last. 
 In tatters to his Poll at home, 
 Seeiionsst Haulyard singing conte,, 
 
 A sailor's life, &c. 
 
 Yet for poor Hatrlyar d what disgrace, 
 i'oll sweatssiie never saw his facet 
 iHe damna her for a faithless she, 
 And singing goes again to sea. 
 
 KNOWING JOEY. 
 
 t was call'd knowing Joey, by the lads vC ijim 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 45 
 
 Old dad taught me wisely to know folk; 
 Gad! I was so cute, wiien they laughing came 
 
 down, 
 
 1 ax'd, how d'ye do, to ilie show folk. 
 
 Says, How d'ye do? to the players. [In re- 
 citative. 
 I could chant a good stave— that I knows very 
 
 well, 
 i\o boy of my age could talk louder. 
 Crack a joke, tip the wink, or a droll story 
 tell. 
 
 Of my cleverness sure none were prouder; 
 So thinks I, it's better nor following of plougii 
 
 To try with lliese youths to queer low folk. 
 Their master I met, and i made a low bow — 
 
 .Spoken.) •' How d'ye do,zir.? I been main 
 happy to see yon down in our parts. We shall 
 be prime merry now you be conied. Have 
 some notion of turr ing stage actor myself." — 
 "Stage actor I you ! you muf&n-faced son of a 
 tee-to-tum !'' said he, "youco'jld play nothing 
 but a fool." ♦' I don't know but what I mout," 
 said I, " for I have been trying it all my life- 
 time." 
 
 "d a place just to join wi' the show folk, 
 The place that I got I determined to keep. 
 
 But, ailzookersi they were all so drollish, 
 Kings, cobbUrs, and tailors, a prince or a 
 sweep. 
 
 And tbey jaw'd so at I, I looked foolish, 
 Their daggers and swords they handled so 
 cute. 
 
 And their ladies were all so bewitching, 
 ♦Vlien I thought to talk droll, I waa alwa/l 
 struck mule 
 
46 TOCAL LYRE. 
 
 As t' bacon rack that hangs in our kitchen 
 They ax'd me to say, as hew coarh was at the 
 door, 
 While we were seated above and below 
 
 folk- 
 Spoken.) As I was going on the sta?e to say 
 ' Ma'aui the coach is at the door,' i neard my 
 old dnddy's voice in the gallery; "Ah! sir- 
 rah! what riglit had you to turn stage-player, 
 and disgrace your family in the manner you 
 have done ?'' For you must know that niv fa- 
 ther was a great man — dam'nie if he was'nf 
 the principal chimney-sweeper in our pans. 
 
 Thus I swooned away 'mong the show folk. 
 
 They laughed so, and jeered me as never was 
 
 seen, 
 
 All manner of tricks thej were playing: 
 
 One night I was sent to wait a-top of a c,ueen, 
 
 Not thinking the plan they were laying — 
 
 I 
 
 Spoken.) I knowM she was a queen, be- 
 cause how they called her Queen Hamlet o< 
 Dunkirk, and she had a lot of shiniO{i dia- 
 monds a *op of her head, like half moons. 
 
 Not thinking the plan they were laying — 
 My lady she died on a chair next her 'spouse, 
 
 While with pins me behind they were 
 pricking. 
 
 Spoken.) *' Why don't you be easy j*'* said 
 1 ; " don't you see I'm before the gentleman 
 
 and ladies, playing my part ? and be d d 
 
 to you." All at once her grace — .— 
 
VOCAI. LYRE. 47 
 
 Alive she was soon, ay, and kicking. 
 Tlie people all laugli'cl at and hooted poor I, 
 
 Ami "he comical L)ogs did me so joke, 
 That I made but one step, without bidding 
 good bye. 
 
 Spoken.) Frr^m the stage door [I never look- 
 ed behind me.] I tumbled over a barrel of 
 thunder— kuo'ked down a hail storm — spoiled 
 a ^pHn new moon — set fire to the sun — daslied 
 like a d»vil through the infernal regions — l)o!t- 
 ed into Br« Bull's sIj p, the Ivy House, lying 
 near ::ft. Paul's c.liain, 
 
 And so bid adieu to the show folk. 
 
 A HIGHI.A]^iD LADDIE. 
 
 K Highland laddie heard of war, 
 V\ hich se; his heart in motion ; 
 He l.eard the diat mi cannon's roar, 
 He saw the smiling ocean ; 
 
 Come wtal, come wo. 
 
 To sea he'd go, 
 And 'eft one morning early 
 
 Loch Lomond ben. 
 
 And the willow g!en. 
 And Jean that loved him dearly. 
 
 He wandered east, he wandered south. 
 
 But joy he could not find it ; 
 But he lound out th s wholesome truth» 
 And had the sense to mind it ; 
 Of a' the earth, 
 The bonny north. 
 
48 VOCAL LYIIJ, 
 
 To clie-sish late and early 1 
 Loch Lomond ben, 
 And the willow glen, 
 
 And Jean that loved him dearlv. 
 
 HAKK, THE LARK* 
 
 Hark', the lark at Heaven's gate sin^s,. 
 
 And Phoebui 'gins to rise. 
 His steeds to water at those springn. 
 
 On chalice'd flowers that lies 
 
 And winking Maribuds begm 
 
 To ope their golden eyes , 
 With every that pretty bien, 
 
 My lady sweet, arisp 
 
 MARY, I BELIEVED THEE* 
 
 Mary, I believed thee true, 
 
 And I was bless'd in thus believing, 
 But now 1 mourn that e'er I knew 
 
 A girl so fair and so deceivinj;;. 
 Few have ever loured like me, 
 
 O I have loved thee loo sincerely ; 
 And few have e'er d^ceiv'd like thee, 
 
 Alas ! deeeiv'd me^too severel}', 
 
 Fare thee weiL 
 
 Fare thee well, yet think awhile 
 
 On one whose bosom bleeds to doubt thee^ 
 Who now would rather trws! that smile, 
 
VOCAL LYRG. 4& 
 
 ^f.d die with thee than lUe withou* thee 
 
 Fare thee well. I'll tnink of tliee, 
 
 Thou leavest me many a bitter token • 
 For see, distracting woman, sec, 
 My peace is gone, my hearjt is broken. 
 Fare thee well. 
 T. Moor*, 
 
 KOBIN ADAIR. 
 
 What's this dull town to me 7 
 
 Robin's not near. 
 Wiiat was't it I wish'd to see f 
 
 What wish'd to hear ? 
 Where's all the joy and rairtli 
 
 Made this town a heaven on earth! 
 Oh ! they're all fled with thee, 
 
 Robin Adair. 
 
 What made the aase<nbly snme ? 
 
 Robin Adair. 
 What made the ball so fine ? 
 
 Rcbin was tht/e, 
 What, — when the play was o'er, 
 
 Wiiat made so sore ? 
 Oh it was parting with 
 
 Robin Adair 
 
 But now thou'ft cold to me, 
 
 Robin Adair. 
 But now thou'rt cold to in*, 
 
 Robin Adair. 
 Yet he I loved so well 
 Still in my heatt shall dwell. 
 
50 VOCAL I. IKK 
 
 Oh ! I can never forget 
 Robin Adair 
 
 COLLEGE IIULE>^ 
 
 Now we're free from College rules, 
 
 From common place book reajcr-. , 
 From trifling I'hilogistic schools. 
 
 And systems out of season. 
 Never more shall have defined 
 
 If mailer thinks or thinks noti 
 All llie matter we shall find 
 
 Is he wrho drinks or drmks net. 
 
 Metaphysically to trace 
 
 The mind or soul abstracted 5 
 Or prove infinity of space 
 
 By cause on cause effected. 
 Better souls we shall l)ecome, 
 
 By immaterial thinking. 
 And as to space, we want no room 
 
 Bui room enough to drink in. 
 
 *' Plenum, vacuum, minus, plus," 
 
 Are learned words and rare too; 
 Those terms our tutois may discuaa, 
 
 And those who please may hear tOOi 
 A " plenum in ourvvine we show, 
 
 With " plus" on " plus" behind, air 1 
 And when our cash is " minu*'*, low, 
 
 A " vacuum" soon we find, air. 
 
 Copernicus, that learned sag«, 
 Dan Tycho's errors proving, 
 
VOCVL LYRE. 61 
 
 Declares in I can't tell what page, 
 
 The earth round Sol is moving, 
 Bat which goes round what's thai to ua. 
 
 Each is perhaps a notion ; 
 With earth and sun we'll make no fuss, 
 
 But mind the bottle's motion. 
 
 Great Galileo ill was used 
 
 By suierstitious fury , 
 The Autipedeans were abused 
 
 By ignoramus jury. 
 But foot to foot we dare attest, 
 
 yioT fear a treatment scurvy. 
 For when we're dmuk probatim. est, 
 
 We're tumbling, topsy turvy. 
 
 Newton taik'd of lights and shades, 
 
 And different colors new, sir ; 
 Don't let us disturb our heads, 
 
 We will but study two, sir, 
 W^hite and red our glasses boast. 
 
 Reflections on refractions ; 
 After him we name our toast— 
 
 The centre of attraction. 
 
 In that, this is well declaimed, 
 
 By stratum super stratum^ 
 There's mighty magic in its name, 
 
 It 18 nature's prostulaium. 
 Wine and nature next to love, 
 
 Then wisely let us blend'em ; 
 Fiist. though, physically prove 
 
 That non est (emptu bibendtmi. 
 
VOGAL LYRE, 52 
 
 WITH x^Y JUG IN ONE HAND. 
 
 ^ith my jug in one hand and my pipe in the 
 other, 
 
 I'll drinlc to my neighbour and friend. 
 My cares in a whiflf of tobacco I'll smother, 
 
 For life I know shortly will end, 
 While Ceres most kindly refills my brown jug. 
 
 With good ale, I will make myself mellow ; 
 In my wicket chair 1 will make myself snug, 
 
 Like a jolly and true hearted fellow. 
 
 I'll never trouble my head with the cares of 
 the nation, 
 I ve enough of my own for to mind ; 
 For the cares of this life are but grief and vex 
 ation, 
 To death we must all be consigned. 
 Then we'll laugh, drink, and smoke, and leave 
 nothing to pay, 
 But drop, like a pear tliat is mellow ; 
 And wnen cold in my coffin, I'll leave them t« 
 say, 
 He's gone, what a hearty good fetlow . 
 
 THE FOST OFFICE. 
 
 In a post Office bred, 
 
 What a life sure I led, 
 When I handled the thoughts of my betters* 
 
 C, it was such a scene, 
 
 That our great public inn 
 Might be called the republic of letters. 
 
 To Northumberland, 
 
 And CuDYbcrlund. 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 63 
 
 To Westmoreland 
 
 And Sunderland, 
 To Hartfovd, 
 w^dDartford, 
 
 •^^ad Bedford, 
 
 And Deptford, 
 -^ iifh. south, east and west, 
 Tssach comer addressed, 
 Such a wonderful concentration, 
 I m-ght say without brag, 
 I cculd shake in a bag, 
 Half the wisdom and wit of the nation. 
 
 Spoken.] " Do pray stand away from the 
 .vindcws, or I can't see to give out the letters.' 
 f A sneaking voice.] •' Pray, sir, haven't you 
 r'"* ■'^■^sr a von for me — my name's Timothy 
 Twist ; rm a tailor, and it's from my sweet- 
 aeart, Miss Dorothy Dumpling." " Yes, here 
 It IS, all over grease and sealed with a thimble. 
 Here, John, is your master's letters." [A coun- 
 tryman's voice.] "How much be I to pay ?" 
 Nothing, you fool, don't you see it's frank'd. — 
 ', Oil, here's M.P. on it, that means musn t pay 
 suppose." [An Irisii voice.] " Is there never 
 a letter for me, pray ?'' None at all either to- 
 day or yesterday. " fjpon my word, that's ve- 
 ry hard, do you think there will be e'er a one 
 to morrbw?" I really can't say, sir. 
 
 So tbey pour in like hail, 
 *Till they're off with the mail, 
 With n rattle away, dash, dash away. 
 
 Some folks write for fun, 
 And others to dun 
 
54 VOCAL LYRE 
 
 Some blaming and others commending. 
 Some letters on love, 
 And Olheis to move. 
 Soft friends their tiard cash to be lend/nu 
 Relaiions dying, 
 Selling, buying,, 
 Losing, thriving, 
 Ships arriving. 
 Courting, fighting. 
 Wronging, writing, 
 Suits at law, 
 Cash to draw, 
 Dull and gay, cross and kind, 
 Such a medley you'd find, 
 Each scroll to appear on inspection, 
 In writer and theme, 
 That our office would soera 
 Noah's ark, l)y the motley collection. 
 Spoken.] " Bless me, vvliat a number of 
 queer names ; — Mr. Lion, Mr. ^row, Mr. 
 Talbot, Miss Partridge, Mr. Herring. Mr. 
 Woodcock, and Monsieur Crenoille." [A 
 
 French voice ] " Ah ! dat is for me." Six- 
 pence ! (lat is to moosh ! 1 will not give you 
 mure as trepence happenny ; if you will not 
 let me have him for dat, you may keep him," 
 " ^our letter, Mr. O'Fiannagen is niaepence 
 more." " Wliat for ?" " Ii'> a double letter" — 
 »A dtnible letter ! Will you he alttr ttlling 
 me that ? Sure a double letter is two letters, 
 and tnis 1 have in my fist is but one. O, stop 
 a bit ; may be there's anotiier in the belly Or 
 it. What's this ? half a Bank note! O, you 
 thieves, I'll have your Post Office taken up fof 
 jJeaiinj tii* othev lialf." 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 65 
 
 So ihey pour in like hail, 
 Till ihc3''re off with the mail, 
 With a rattle on, dash, cash away. 
 
 CHERRY CHEEK'D PATTV 
 
 Down in yon village I livrd so snug, 
 Tliey call me Giles the ploughtiiaii's boy: 
 Tluough woods and o'er stiles, as I tiudge ma- 
 ny miles, 
 f whistle, I whistle, and whoop, gee woo, Jerry 
 My work l)eing done, to the lawn there I fly, 
 Where the lads and the lasses all look very 
 
 s.y 
 And I ze deeply in love with a girl, it is true, 
 And I know, liut i know, but I munna tell you 
 But I'll whistle, rU whistle, for of all the girls 
 
 I e'er did sec, 
 O, chcrry-cheek'd Patty for me. 
 Th'iijgii the squire so great, so happy mayn't 
 
 be, ' ^ 
 
 As poor simple Giles the ploughman's boy; 
 rs'o matters of state ever addle my pate, 
 But I'll vvhistle, I'll whistle, and whoop gee 
 woo, Jeiry. 
 
 Now cherry-chtiek Patty she lives in a vale, 
 Whom I heip'd o'er llie stile with her milking 
 
 pail. 
 And Patty has a Hke notion of me, it is trne, 
 And I know what I know, but I munna te 1 
 
 JO J, 
 
 But I'll whistle, &c. 
 I'ze able and strong, and willing to work, 
 And when the lark rises off triiflges I ; 
 
56 VOCAL LYKE. 
 
 Tlie cows 14) I calf and harneaa oJd Bali, 
 I whistle, I whistlB, and whoop, gee woo, 
 
 Jerry, 
 Then I'ze fifty good shillings, my luck has 
 
 been such. 
 And a lad's not to be giinn'd at that's gotten 
 
 so much ; 
 And when that I'm married to Patty so true, 
 I know wliat I know but I raunna tell you. 
 But I'll whistle, ^-c. 
 
 SPRIG OF SHILLEIiAH. 
 
 love is the soul of a nate Ir-ishman, 
 He loves all the lovely, loves ail that he can, 
 With his sprig of Shillelah and sharHrock so 
 
 green ; 
 His heart is good humor'd, tis honest and 
 
 sound, 
 No malice Or hatred is there to be found, 
 He courts and he ncairies, he drinks and he 
 
 figins. 
 For love, all for love, for in that he delights, 
 With his sprig, of shillelah and shamrock so 
 
 green. 
 
 Who has e'er had the luck to see Donnybrook 
 
 fair ? 
 An Irishman all in his glory is there. 
 With his sprig of shillelah and shamrock so 
 
 green. 
 His clothes spick-and-span n^w, without e'ers 
 
 sudck, 
 
VOCAl, I.YUE. 57 
 
 Aneat Barcelona tied round his neat neck, 
 He goes to a tent and he spends half a crown 
 He meets wi^j a friend, and for love knocks 
 
 him down 
 With his sprig of shilleliih and shamrock 
 
 so green. 
 
 At evening returning, as horiaewar'l he goes, 
 His heart soft with wltiskcv, his hood soft with 
 blows, 
 
 From a sprig of shillelah and shamrock 
 so green : 
 He meets with bis Shelah, wh«>, blushing-a 
 
 smile, 
 Cries, Get 3'^ou gone Pat, yet coasenis all tlva 
 
 while : 
 To the priest soon they go, and nine months 
 
 after that, 
 A fine baby cries, How d'ye do father Pat, 
 With your sprig of shillelah and shamrock 
 so green ? 
 
 Bless tke country, says I, that gave Patrick 
 
 his birth, 
 Eiess the land of the oak, and its neighboring 
 
 earth, 
 Where grows the siiillelah and shamrock so 
 
 green. 
 
 iVIay the sons of the Thames, the Tweed, and 
 
 the Shannon, 
 Drub the foe who dares plant on our oonfiuet 
 
 a cannon. 
 United and happy at loyalty's shrine 
 May the rose, leek, and thistle long flourisk 
 
 and twine. 
 
SS VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 Round a sprig of shillelah and sliamreck to 
 green, 
 
 MISTER PETER SNOUT. 
 
 Mister Peter Snout, was invited out, 
 
 Heigh ho I ficttJle dee dee : 
 He had but one shirt, and he made a rout. 
 For his wife that moment had washed it out 
 
 While snug in bed lay he. 
 
 The dinner was nigh, and the shirt not dry, 
 
 Heigh ho! fiddle dee dee! 
 Oh, dear Mistress Snout, what are you about i 
 If my shirt is not ready I'm off without, 
 
 ni be damn'd if ! don't said he. 
 
 They expect me at five, so 8a)'8 the note : 
 
 Heigh ho! fiddle dee dee. 
 A clean cravat I'll tie round ray throat. 
 And up to his chin he buttoned his coat. 
 
 It will do very well, said she. 
 
 He came to the house and he dcff'd his hat | 
 
 Heigh ho! fiddle dee dee . 
 He made a fine bow, and down he sat, 
 Under his waistcoat he showed his cravat, 
 
 Which the ladies all blush'd to see. 
 
 The weather was rainy — now mind the gig 
 
 Heigh ho ! fiddle dee dee ! 
 He couldn't go home, so was forced to pig, 
 With Parson Botch, a clerical prig— 
 
 I shall sleep very weH said be. 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 51 
 
 #>»««0B Botch always changed his shht at 
 night; 
 Heigho ! fiddle dee dee ; 
 And Mr. Snout, long before it was light 
 Mipped into his shirt, though 'twas short ana 
 tight, 
 And oui of tiie room crept he. 
 
 The bedfellows soon at the breakfast met, 
 
 Heigho 1 fiddle .lee dee ; 
 TaTson Bdtch protested the law he'd get ; 
 Says Snout, di'ar Botch, 'tis a folly to fret, 
 
 I appeal to this company. 
 
 The ladies all vow'd Mr. Botch was siuniiig, 
 
 Heigho! fiddle dee di-e ! 
 Said ihey (with a vast deal of blushhig aid 
 
 grinning.) 
 We all took notice of Mr. Snout's linen, 
 So out of the room went he. 
 
 THE SAVOYARD BOY. 
 
 I come from a land far away. 
 
 My parents t( keep me too poor 
 To please you I sing and I play. 
 
 Yet a 'iving can scarcely procure. 
 About, sad and hungry I go, 
 
 Though smiling, as if 'twere with jof 
 Then a trifle in pity bestow. 
 
 To relieve a poor Savoyard boy, 
 
 IVhen around me the children I see 
 So careless and happy appear, 
 P 
 
60 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 I sigh wliile llie>' lisieu to me, 
 
 And oft whilo I plaj* drop a {ear, 
 
 5 caiiHol help thinking that they 
 
 Can fly to tiieir parents with joy, 
 
 Wliile mine they are far, far away, — 
 Then relieve a pour Savoyard boy. 
 
 WEEM I WAS A YOUNRER. 
 When I was a younger, and lived with nay 
 
 dad, 
 The neighbours all thought me a smart Jirtle 
 
 lad; 
 My mammy she call'd noe a white heade.d boy 
 Because with the girls. I liked lo toy 
 There was Ciss, 
 Fnss, 
 
 Letty and Betty, 
 And Doll; 
 With Meg, 
 Peg. 
 
 Jenny and Wlnn«T» 
 And MoU. 
 
 I flatter 
 Their clatter, 
 
 So sprightly and giy i 
 I rumble 'ena-— 
 Tumble 'era — 
 
 That's my way. 
 
 On« rme fro!ty morning, a going to §choei, 
 Voung Moggy I met, and she call'd me a fooi 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 6\ 
 
 Her mouth was my primiwer, a lesson I tookj 
 I swore it was pie:!}', and kissed the book. 
 
 l?ut sciiool, 
 
 Fool, 
 
 Primmer, 
 
 Trimmer, 
 
 And bircli, 
 And boys lor tlie girls I leave in the lurch, 
 I flatter, &c. 
 
 It's we '.I kiiown I can dance a good jig, 
 And at cudgels from Robin I won a fat pig; 
 I can wrestle a fall, and the bar 1 can fling. 
 And when o'er she flagon can sweetly sing* 
 
 But pie, 
 
 Jig. 
 
 "Wicket, 
 
 And Cricket, 
 I give it up to wrestle with Moggy a fiiU. 
 I flatter, &c- 
 
 THE SULTAK AND THE WAG 
 
 A. ifiighty sultan once for fun 
 
 Indulged an inclination, — 
 'Tis odds by then my story's done 
 
 You'll make its application. 
 
 A wag he sent for to his court, 
 Who, each way you can mention, 
 
 To furnish whim, and fun, and sport, 
 Still tortured hi-s invention. 
 
 To please this sultan, &c. 
 
 'Mongfit Folly's sons and daughters too. 
 With Satire did he wander ? 
 
62 VOCAL LVllK. 
 
 And still aiiempting something; new. 
 Relying on the candor 
 
 Of ihia mighty sultan, ^c 
 
 At length his frolic's at an end. 
 
 Cried one, I do not bam you, 
 But as you merit, my good friend, 
 
 He'll eitlier save or damn you. 
 
 Will this migh'y sultaa, ^. 
 
 But, for your comfort, he is just. 
 
 And easily contented. 
 Nor to h'm e'er Jitl any trust. 
 
 Who aftepvards repented. 
 You are the sultan who furfuo 
 
 Indulge an iiiclination, 
 I am tlie Wag, my story's done 
 
 Now n»ake its application. 
 
 FLY NOT \ET. 
 
 Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour. 
 When pleasure, like the aiuhiight flower. 
 That scorns the eye of vulgar light, 
 Begins to bloom for ^onli of nif^lit, ' 
 
 And maids who love the moon; 
 'Twas but to bless these hours of shad« 
 That beauty and the moon were made ; 
 'Tis then their soft at attraeiious glowing 
 Set the tides and goblets flowing 
 
 Oh! stay! oh! stay! 
 Joy so stldom weaves a chain 
 
VOCAL LYllE. 63 
 
 Like tfiw to-night, that, oh ! 'tis pain 
 To break its links so soon, 
 
 Fly not yet ; the fount that play'd, 
 .n times of ohJ, tlirough Ainmon's shade 
 Tliough icy c«i^d dy day it ran, 
 Yet sti 1, like souls of mi»4i, began 
 
 o burn when night was near ; 
 And thus should woman's heart and looks 
 At noon be cold as winter brooks. 
 Nor kindle till the night returning 
 Brings therr genial lionr of burning. 
 
 Oh ! stay, — oh ! stay ; 
 When did morning ever break. 
 And firwl such beaming eyes awake 
 
 As those that sparkle here ? 
 
 T. MOORB. 
 
 RED-CROSS KNIGHT. 
 
 Blow warder, blow the sounding hor«. 
 
 And thy banorr wave on high ; 
 For the Christians nave fought in the holy htnd, 
 
 &nd have won the victory, 
 Loud the warder blew his horn, 
 And his banner waved on high: 
 Let tlie mass be sunfj, I 
 Au'l the bells be rung j 
 And tlie feast eat merrily. 
 
 The warder look'd from the tower on high, 
 
 As far as he could see ; 
 I see a bold knight, and by his red crosi ■ 
 
 He comes from the «ast country. 
 
64 VOCAL LYRE 
 
 Then loud the warder blew his horn, 
 And called till he was hoarse, 
 
 Let the mass be sung, «S;c. 
 " I see a bold knight, and on his shield bright 
 
 He beareth a flaming cross." 
 Then down the lord of the castle came. 
 
 And when the Red -cross Knight he spied. 
 Right loving he did him greet : 
 Thou'rt welcome here, dear Red-cross Knight 
 For thy fame's well known to me ; 
 
 And thy mass shall be sung, 
 And the bells shall be rung, 
 And we'll feast right merrily. 
 
 liOVE IN THINE EYES, 
 LOVF in tiiine eyes forever playg, 
 An in thy snowy bosom strays , 
 He makes thy rosy lips his care. 
 And walks the mazes of thy hair ; 
 Love dwells in every outward part ; 
 But, ah ! he never touch'd thy heart ; 
 How different is my fate from thine 
 No outward marks of love are mine. 
 My brow is clouded by desj.air ; 
 And grief, love's bitter foe, is there •, 
 But, deep within tliy glowing »oul, 
 He rules and reia-ns without control. 
 
 THE SAPLING OAK. 
 
 Thk sapling oak, lost in liie del., 
 Where langleil brakes its beauties spoiJ. 
 
65 irOCAL LYRE. 
 
 And ev^r/ infant shock repel. 
 Droops hop-sless o'er the exhausted soli 
 
 At length the woodman clears around. 
 
 Where'er the noxious thickets sprea'i ) 
 And high reviving o'er the ground. 
 The forest's monarch lifts its head. 
 
 Sedgwick. 
 
 FORGET TIIEE' 
 
 FoRGFT thee ! — in my banquet hall, 
 
 Go ask my fellow men ; 
 Or ask the tear that secret falls. 
 
 If I forget thee then. 
 The midnight hours with song and wine 
 
 I ever shared with thee ; 
 The midnight hours they still are thine 
 
 And fatal memory ! 
 Forget thee ! — in the mirthful dance, 
 
 There steals sr>mc eye's bright ray. 
 Like thine— that makes me with its glancp, 
 
 Turn swift in tears aviray. 
 Go ask my minstrels, when they breathe 
 
 The verse the poet's pen 
 \Vith each Parnassian sweet hath wreath'dj 
 
 If I forget thee then i 
 Forget thee !— Oh there is but one 
 
 Could from my memory chase 
 Each swe-et charm I have guzed upon, 
 
 Each softly winning grace 
 To be the one's, my first, first vow 
 
 I pledge with inf^int breath, 
 And he comes to demand me now, 
 
 Thy rival, Inve, is death ! 
 
66 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 Forget Ihee ! — when my funeral urn 
 
 Thy tearful gaze shall meet. 
 And censors of aroma burn 
 
 Exhaiujg at my feet t 
 When winds and storms carecriog sweep 
 
 And own my love's at rest ! 
 
 Rya 
 
 SANDY O^ER TIIE LEE. 
 
 1 WINNA marry ony mon but Sandy o'er the 
 
 / ee 
 But I will ha my Sandy lad, my Sandy o'er the 
 
 Lee ; 
 For he's aye a kissing, kissing, aye a kii^sing 
 
 me. 
 I will not have the minister for all his godly 
 
 looks ; 
 Nor yet will I the lawyer have, for all his wily 
 
 crooks 
 I will not have the ploughman lad, nor yet wiK 
 
 1 the miller, 
 But I vrill \iave my Sandy lad, without one 
 
 penny siller ; 
 
 For he's aye a kissing, &c 
 
 I will i^ot have the soldier lad, for he gangs to 
 
 the war ; 
 I will not nive the sailor lad, because he 
 
 smells of tar : 
 J will not have the lord nor laird, for tU th«tr 
 
 mickie gear , 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 67 
 
 But I will have my Sandy lad, my Sandy o'ei 
 the meir, 
 
 For he's aye a kissing, &c 
 
 SIGH NOT FOR LOVE. 
 
 Sigh not for love, if you wish not to know 
 
 Every torment that waits on mortals here be- 
 low \ 
 
 If you tain would avoid all the dangers and 
 snares 
 
 That attend human life, and escape all its 
 cares 
 
 Sigh not for love. 
 
 If cheerfulness smiles on the cup as you stp, 
 And you wish not ro dash the sv/eet cup frora 
 
 your lip, 
 If life's rill you see sparkle with pleasure s 
 
 gay ueara; 
 Nor destroy the gay bubbles that rise on the 
 
 stream, 
 
 Sigh not for love. 
 
 If you dread the sharp pang that assails the 
 
 lond heart. 
 If you wish to shun sorrow, and mirth would 
 
 impart, 
 If you prize a calm life, with contentment and 
 
 case. 
 If pleasure can chann you and liberty pJease» 
 Sigh not for love. 
 
 WHEN THE KOSY MORN. 
 
 When the rosy morn appearing. 
 Paints with gold and verdant law« 
 D 
 
t9d ft)CAL ^k-'ll. 
 
 Bees, on banks of tb' ^ ^^g&ii^i^^ 
 Sip the sweets, a' ^' ""H «?aT*T. 
 
 WarbTing birds the day proelaimirj^, 
 Carol sweet the lively strain ; 
 
 They forsake their leafy dwellinjj^ 
 To secure the golden grain. 
 
 See, coutenJt. the humble gl« aner 
 Takes the scattered ears ti)at 
 
 Nature, all her children viewing, 
 Kindly bounteous, cares for a 
 
 IN MY COTTAGE. 
 
 \u my cottage near a wood, 
 
 Love and Rosa now are mine ; 
 Rosa ever fair and good. 
 
 Charm me with those smiles of ([i'me^ 
 Rosa, partner of my life, 
 
 Tliee alone my heart shall prize, 
 Thou, the tender friend and wTfe, 
 
 Ah! too swift life's current ^jes ! 
 
 Linger yet, ye moments s^ay ; 
 
 Why so rapid is your wing ? 
 Whither would you haste awayf' 
 
 btay, and hear my Rosa sing, 
 Love and yen still bless my cot, 
 
 Fortune's frowns are for onr goo^)^ 
 May we live, by pride forgot. 
 
 In cor coitaKe near a wood. 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 69 
 
 ivxVTE OF ABERDfJEiV. 
 
 Tlie silver momrs enamour'd beam 
 
 Steals softly through the night. 
 To wanton with the winding streati. 
 
 An<i kiss rellected light. 
 To beds of state, go, balmy sleep ! 
 
 ('Tis where you've seldom been"^ 
 May's vigil while the shepherds keep 
 
 \Mth Kate of Aberdeen. 
 
 Upon the green tiie viigms wail. 
 
 In rosy chaplets gay. 
 Till n)orn unbar her golden gat«, 
 
 And give the promised May, 
 Methinka 1 hear the raaiua daclare. 
 
 The promised May, when seen, 
 Not half so fragrant, hall so fair, 
 
 As Kate of Aberdeen, 
 
 Strike up the tabor's boldest notes. 
 
 We'll rouse the nodding grove : 
 The nested birds shall raise their throati, 
 
 And hail the maia I lov»;: 
 And see — the matin lark P^lstakes, 
 
 He quits the tufted green, 
 Fond bird ! 'lis not the nwining breaks 
 
 'Tis Kate of Aberdeen. 
 
 Now lightsome o'er the level mead. 
 
 Where midnight fairies roye, 
 Like them, the jocund dan^e we'll lead, 
 
 Or tone the reed to love; 
 For see the rosy May drav».i nigh, 
 
 She claims a virgin queRH. 
 And, here ! the happy shepherds cry, 
 
 'Tis Kate of Aherdeeo. 
 
70 VOCAL LYKE. 
 
 THE DEATH OF TOM MOODY. 
 
 You all know Tom Moojyy the whipper-in- 
 well; 
 
 But just now done tolling, has honest Tom's 
 knell: 
 
 A more able sportsman ne'er followed a hound 
 
 Through a country well known to be fifty 
 miles round. 
 
 No hound ever opened with Tern near a wood, 
 But he'd challenge the tone, ane could tell if 
 
 'twere good ; 
 And all with attention would eagerly mark. 
 When l>e cheered up the jwck, with " Hark! to 
 
 Rockwood, foark ! hark! 
 Hey, wind and cross him, now. Rattler, ho'? 
 hark ? 
 
 And all with attention, &c. 
 
 Six crafty earth stoppers, in hunters' green 
 
 dress. 
 Supported poor Tom to an earth made for rest^ 
 His corse, which he stykd his Old Soul, next 
 
 appear'd, 
 On wnos'8 forehead the brush of the last fox 
 
 was reaced. 
 Whip, eap, boots, and spurs, in a trophy went 
 
 bound, 
 And here and there followed a straggling old 
 
 houn-d. 
 Ah t no more his voice yonder hiils will they 
 
 trace, 
 Nor the welkin resound his burst of the chaie, 
 With hie, over, now press him ! tally ho! 
 Ah ! no more, &c. 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 71 
 
 Thus Tom spoke to his friends ere be gave uf 
 
 his breath ; 
 '*Sipce I see you're resolved to be in at tha 
 
 death. 
 One favor bestow, 'tis the last I shall crave 
 Giw. a rattling view halloo thrice over mv 
 
 grave; 
 Arvl unless at the warning I lift up my head. 
 My boys you may safely conclude thai I'm 
 
 deud." 
 Honest Tom w.ts f»beyed, and the shouts rent 
 
 the sky, 
 But he never join'd in the tally-ho cry. 
 
 Honest Tom was obey'd. Sec. 
 
 KICH AND RARE. 
 Rich and rare were the gems she wore, 
 And a bright gold ring on h;er v.-and she bore, 
 But oh ! her beauty was far beyond 
 Sparkling gems and snow white v;arid. 
 
 "Lady, dost not thou fear to stray, 
 
 So lone and lovely thrcuigli this bleak way ? 
 
 Are Erin's sons so good or so cold 
 
 As not to be tempted by woman oi gold '* 
 
 "Sir knigkt I feel not the kast alarm, 
 
 tso son of Erin will off'r me harm. 
 
 For thougih they love vr'omeii and goldon store, 
 
 Sir knight they love honour and virtue mcr*. 
 
 On she went, nnd her maiden smile, 
 111 safety lighted li«r through the green isle. 
 And blessed for ever is she who relied 
 On Erin's honour and Erin*? pride. 
 
72 VOCAL LYRE 
 
 BRUCE TO HIS AKMY 
 
 Scots, wha' hae wi' Wallace bled, 
 
 ScotB wham Bruce has often led, 
 
 We-lcome to your gery bed. 
 
 Or to g^loiious victory ! 
 
 Plow's tlie (lay, and now's the hour, 
 
 Seethe front of battle low'r; 
 
 See approach proud Edward's power, 
 
 Edward, chains and slavery. 
 
 Wha will be a traitor knave ? 
 Wha will fill a coward's grave ? 
 Wha sae base as be a slave ? 
 
 Tnaitor ! coward ! turn and flc» ! 
 Wha, for Scotland's king and la', 
 Freedom's sword will strongly draw. 
 Freeman stand, or freeman fa', 
 
 Caledonia;! on wi' me. 
 
 By oppression's woes and pains, 
 B)' your sons in servile chains, 
 We will dnin our dearest veins, 
 
 But they shall be, shall be ix99. 
 Lay the proud usurpers low, 
 Tyrants fa'll in every foe, 
 Liverty's in every blow; 
 
 Forward ' let us ao or die. 
 
▼OCAL LYRE. 73 
 
 TOM STAKBOARH 
 
 TtM Staibojird was a lover true. 
 
 Ai brave a» ever sail'd ; 
 Tlie duties ablest seamen do, 
 
 Tom did, and never yel had fail'd, 
 But, wreck'd as he was homeward bound. 
 
 Within a league of England's coast, 
 Love saved hira sure from being drown'd. 
 
 For more than half the crew were lost. 
 
 In fight Tom Starboard knew no fear ; 
 
 Nay, when lie lost an arm resign'd, 
 Said, love for Nan, his only dear, 
 
 Had saved his life, and fate was kind ; 
 And now thougli wreck'd yet Tom return d. 
 
 Of all past dangers made a joke ; 
 ^or still his manly bosom bum'd 
 
 With love— his heart was heart of oak. 
 
 His strength restorV., Tom nobly ran 
 
 To cheer liis Nan, his destined bride ; 
 But false report ha^l brought to Nan, 
 
 Six month? before, that Tom I'fld died. 
 With grief she daily pined awr^y, 
 
 No remt'dy her life could save ; 
 A>nd Tom rcturuM — the very day 
 
 1'J:ev laid hlj NHncy i> he grave, 
 
 T. Knight 
 
74 VOCAL LYIIB. 
 
 THE BAY OF BISCAY, Ot 
 
 LofD roar'd the dreadful thunder ! 
 
 The rain a deluge showers I 
 llie clouds were tent asunder 
 
 By lightning's vivid pov.'ers ! 
 The night both drear and dark^ 
 Our poor devoted bark, 
 Til] next day. 
 There she lay, 
 ^thc Bay of Biscay, O! 
 
 At length the wish'd for morrow 
 Broke through the hasy sky* 
 Absoib'd in silent so-rrow. 
 
 Each heav'd a bitter sigh 5 
 The dismal wreck to view- 
 Struck horror to the crew. 
 As she lay. 
 On that day. 
 In the Bay ©f Biscay, O ! 
 
 Her yielding timbers sever. 
 
 Her pitchy seams arc rent, 
 When Heaven, all bounteoHS evm 
 
 Its boundless mercy sent ; 
 A sail insight appears 
 
 We hail her with three cheew t 
 Novir we sail, 
 With the gale. 
 From the £ay of Biscay, 0! 
 
VOCAL LYRE 75 
 
 FAR, FAR AT SEA. 
 
 Twas at night when the bell had toll'd twelve 
 And poor Susan WaS laid on her jiillow, 
 
 In her ear whispered some fleeting elve, 
 Your love is now tossed on a billow. 
 Far, far, at sea. 
 
 All was dark ! as she 'woke out of breath. 
 Not an object her fears could discover-; 
 
 All was still as th.e silence of death. 
 Save fancy which painted her lover 
 Far, far, at sea. 
 
 So she whisper'd a prayer, closed her eyes, 
 But the phantom still haunted her pillow 
 Whilt^ in terror she echoed his cries, 
 As struggling he sunk in the billow. 
 
 Far, far at sea 
 
 OH, TELL ME PILGRIMS. 
 
 Oh, tell nie, pilgrims faint and weary, 
 Whither o'er the moor you stray ? 
 
 The winds of night blow cold and dreary. 
 Dark and lonely is the way. 
 
 Fnough dark the way though lone the mooff 
 At Juan's shrine our beads we tell, 
 
 Kach night when, from the abbey tower, 
 Slowly tolls the midnight bell. 
 
 Now the tapers, faintly gleammg, 
 I/ight the chapel aisle long; 
 
1C\ VOCAL LWtE. 
 
 Now, tn« sacred rites proclaiinmg, 
 Slowly tolls the bell, ding dong. 
 
 Oh, say what sound, so sweet ascending. 
 
 Steal along the dusky sky ? 
 From whence those songs tliat, softly blending 
 
 O'er the dreary moorlands die ? 
 
 Now the tapers. &c. 
 
 LIFE LET US CSIERSSII, 
 
 Life let us cherish, while yet the taper glow*. 
 And the fresh llow'rft pluck ere it close, 
 Why are we fond of toil and care ? 
 Why choo?c the rankling thorn to wear 
 And heedless by the lily stray, 
 Wliich blossoms in our way? 
 
 When the clouds obscure the atnnospher«. 
 And forked lightnings rend the air, 
 The sun resumes its silver crest, 
 And smiles arlown the west. 
 
 The geniiil seasons soon are o'er, 
 Then let us, ere we quit this sliore. 
 Contentment seek ; ii is life's zest, 
 The sunshine of the breast. 
 
 Away with every toil and car«. 
 And cea«e the rankling thorn to wear; 
 With man-ful hearts life's conllicf meet. 
 Till death sounds the retreat. 
 
OCAL LYllK. n 
 
 TItE FRIEWD AND PITCHER. 
 
 The wealthy foci, with gold in store, 
 
 "Will still de>ire to grow richer ; 
 Give me but thet>e, I ask no more, 
 
 My charming c^iil, my fiicnd an.i pitcher. 
 
 My friend so rare, my girl so fair, 
 With such what mortal can be ricner 
 
 Give me but these, a fig for care, 
 With my sweet girl, my friend and pitcher. 
 My- friend so rare, &o. 
 
 From morniitg sun I'd never grieve. 
 
 To toil a heiiger or a ditcher, 
 If that, when I come home at eve, 
 
 I might enjoy my firiend and pitcner 
 My friend so rare, Sfe. 
 
 Though fortune ever shuns my door, 
 I do not know what can bewitch her ; 
 
 With all my heart can I be poor, 
 With my sweet girl, my friend and pitcher. 
 I\Iv friend so rare, &c. 
 
 THE COSMETIC DOCTOR. 
 
 Believe me, believe me, in the country or 
 
 town 
 No cosmetic, no cosmetic, but mine would go 
 
 down ; 
 Dotn young ones and old ones would flock at 
 
 my call. 
 And for pimples and wrinkles tliey puichase^ 
 
 ithll. 
 
78 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 The sweet creatures would ciy, 
 Your art, sir, I'll try, 
 For a freckle I ?py, 
 Just below my left eye. 
 To the face pale and wan I gave the bluiSD oi 
 
 the rose, 
 And placed on the cneek what I found on tint 
 nose. 
 
 Some srn'rking, some jerking;. 
 Some cruramy, some gummy, 
 Eyes askew, noses blue, 
 Shallow cheek, made so sleek, 
 *Bove all commendation my tradft n; 
 Smiling face, prate apace, 
 Tell rhe news: all amuse, 
 Aim to show what's the go; 
 That's the way; nov/-a-day 
 To shine as the man for the ladia*. 
 
 Tc tell where I've been. 
 
 Or what fair ones I've seen, 
 In places where I my abode tooi, 
 
 I'm sure it would fill, 
 
 A chancery bill, 
 Or as long be as Pattison's road-boor. 
 
 First at Acton and Ealing, 
 
 Tkeir faces Vixi peeling, 
 At lichester and DorcliestRr, 
 At Chichester and Porchester, 
 At Woolwich and Higngate, 
 And Dulwich and Reigare. 
 At Beckmgton and Oakingham, 
 And Buckingham and ?,< ckinghara. 
 At Brummagem, 
 I rummagem. 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 79 
 
 At Deptford and Hampton. 
 
 And Bedford and Bampton, 
 
 At Harlow asid Charmouth, 
 
 And Marlow and Ydrmoutli, 
 
 At Dartford and Darking, 
 
 And Harford and Barking, 
 
 At Wor'ster ami Chester, 
 
 And Glo'ster and Leicester, 
 
 At Teddingioaaiid Amersham, 
 
 And Holyhead and Riveriiead, 
 
 At Maidenhead and Lea!herhead- 
 jjD chaises and four I've rattled off to Daven- 
 
 try. 
 And oiany is the time that I've heen sent to 
 Coventry. 
 
 To this list let ine add, and the vanity pardon, 
 2've made many a fair one smile in famous 
 Covent Garden. 
 
 Where some are smirking scene jerking;. 
 Some crummy, some gummy, 
 
 Eyes askew, noses blue, 
 Sallow cheek, made so sleek, 
 *3ove all commendation my trade is; 
 Smiling face, prate apace, 
 Tell the news, all amuse, 
 Aim to show, what's the go ,- 
 That's the way novv-a-day. 
 To shine as the man for the ladies. 
 
 FLOW, THOU REGAL. 
 
 Flow, thou regal, pur pie str-eam, 
 Tinted by the solar beam, 
 
^ VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 Ill my goblet sparkling rise, 
 Cheer my heart and glad my eye* , 
 My brain ascend on fancy's wiog 
 'Noint me, wine, a jovial king? 
 While I live, I'll have ray clay, 
 When I'm dead and gone away. 
 Let nay thirsty subjects say, 
 A month he reign'd, and iliat was May. 
 
 BY THE GAILY CIRCLING GLASS 
 
 By the gaily circling gla«s, 
 We can see how minutes pass ; 
 By the hollow cask we're told. 
 How tlie waning night grows old. 
 Soon, too soon the busy day 
 Drives us from our sport and play 
 What have wc with day to do! 
 Sons of care, 'twas made for you. 
 
 By the screeching of the owl, 
 By the empty butts that roll. 
 By the chirping on the thorn. 
 We foretell the approach of mom. 
 Fill, oh ! fill the vacant gists. 
 Let no precious moments shp 
 Flout the moralizing ass 
 Joy finds entrance at the lip. 
 
 DA5JE DURDEK. 
 
 Dame Durden kept five serving g<rl»» 
 To c \;ry the milking fiil{ 
 
VOCVL LYRE. 81 
 
 She also kept five labouring men. 
 To use the «pade and flail, 
 Twas Moll aiul Fct, aiitl Doll atid Kale, and 
 
 Dorothy Draggletail ; 
 And Jolni and Dick, and Jo« and Jack, and 
 Humphrey, with his flail. 
 
 'Twas Jonn kiss'd Molly ! 
 And DIcIi kiss'd Betty ! 
 A nd Joe kiss'd Dolly ! 
 
 And Jack kiss'd Katy * 
 And Dorothy Draggletail, 
 And Humphrey, with his flail ; 
 And Kitty was a c.l)arininggirl to carry the mil- 
 king pail 
 
 Dame Durden in the morn so soon 
 
 She did begin to call ; 
 To roMse her serviints, maids and men, 
 
 She then began to bawl, 
 
 'Twas Moll and Bet, && 
 
 'Twas on the morn of '\''alenline, 
 
 The birds boganto prate ; 
 Dame Durden's servants, maids, and men. 
 
 They all began to mate. 
 
 'Twas Moll and Bet, iftu 
 
 PERHAPS IT IS NOT LOVE, 
 SAID I 
 
 Perhaps ii is not love, said 1 
 That melts my soul when Flavia's nigh. 
 Where wit and sense like hers agree. 
 One may be pleased, and yet be free. 
 The beauties of her polish'd mind 
 I: needs no lover's eye to find ; 
 
82 VOCAL LYRE 
 
 The hermit freezing in his eel/, 
 Might wish the gentle Flavia well. 
 
 It is not love averse to bear 
 The servile chain that lovers wear, 
 Let me all my fears reinove, 
 My doubts dispel it is not love. 
 
 Oh ! when did wit so brightly shine, 
 In any form less fair than thine; 
 It is, it is love's subtle fire, 
 And under friendship lurks desir ., 
 
 BLOW, BLOW. 
 
 Blow blow, thou summer's breeze, 
 O gently fan the trees, 
 
 That form yon fragrant bower ; 
 Where Anna, loveliest maid, 
 On Nature's carpet laid. 
 
 Enjoys the evening hour. 
 
 Hence, hence, ye objects foul, 
 The beetle, bat and owl, 
 
 The hagworm, newt, and toad. 
 But fairy elves unseen, 
 May gambol o'er the green 
 
 And circle her abode. 
 
 Shed, shed thy sweetest beams. 
 In parti-coloured streams, 
 
 Thou fount of heat and light. 
 No no ; withdraw thy ray ; 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 83 
 
 Her eyes diffuse a day 
 As kind, as warm, as bright. 
 
 Breailie, breathe thy incense, May ; 
 Ye flowers your homage pay 
 
 To one more fair and sweet ; 
 Y'e opening rosebuds, slied 
 Your fragran»e round her head ; 
 
 Ye lilies, kiss lier feet. 
 
 Flow, flow, thou chrystal rill, 
 With twinkling gurgles fill 
 
 The mazes of the grove ; 
 And, should thy murmuring stream 
 Invite my love to dream, 
 
 O, may she dream of love. 
 
 Sing, sing, ye feather'd choir. 
 And melt to fond desire 
 
 Her ton obd«r»te breast • 
 Then in that tender hour 
 VU steal into the bower, 
 
 And teach her to be blest. 
 
 THE TOUGH WOODEIT WAI*LS. 
 
 When the despot of France felt a wish to in- 
 vade 
 The island that freedom had long call'd her 
 own; 
 The impulse of honour each Briton cbey'd 
 Determined to fight for his country and crown. 
 
 Then encir led by fleets, she has nothing to 
 fear. 
 
84r VOCAL LYllE* 
 
 While no civil comraatioc he;- people db- 
 sever; 
 This adage rema>ins every Briton to cheer — 
 *' The tongh vi'ooden walls of Olll Fngland 
 for ever ! " 
 
 Then what fear can invasion impness on the 
 mind, 
 If, Britons, for ever united we stand ? 
 While our brave volunteers, in true valour 
 combined, 
 Step forward to fight for our dear native 
 land 1 
 With such guardians as these, let the boasters 
 sppesir ; 
 Shall we e're yield to Frenchmen ? Oh ! Eng- 
 lishmen never : 
 For this adage remains, every Briton to cheer, 
 ' The tough wooden walls of old England 
 for ever 
 
 Then health to tke fleet which our island's sur- 
 round, 
 Success to our adHiiml&, coun.geously brave *, 
 With their aoaoiis of V'sjour let heaven re 
 som'kJ, 
 The de»(is cf our navy our country to save. 
 Approbation this toast faom each Briton must 
 meet: 
 *' Prosper well ev'ry Englishman's honest 
 endeavour;; 
 May God save tho King, his army, and fleet, 
 * The tough wooden wails of old England foj 
 •ver r " 
 
VOCAL LYUK tiO 
 
 THE WOUNDED HUSSAR 
 
 Aloue oil the banks of the dark rolling Danube, 
 Fair Adelaide hied when the battle was o'er 
 O, whither, she cried, hast thou wandered my 
 love r 
 Or where dost thou welter and bleed on 
 the shore? 
 ' Vhat voice have I heard r 'Twas my Henry 
 tliat sighed; 
 All mournful she hastened, nor wandered 
 she far, 
 When, bleeding, and low on the heath sh 
 descried. 
 By 5he light of the moon, her poor wounded 
 Hussar. 
 
 From his bosom, that heaved, the last torrent 
 
 was streaming; 
 And pale was his visage, deep mark'd with a 
 
 scar , 
 And dim was that eye, once expressively 
 
 beaming. 
 That melied ia love, and tiiat kindled in 
 
 w?r ; 
 And smit was poor Adelaide's heart at the 
 
 sight ; 
 ■low bitter she wept o'er the victim of war! 
 Mast thou come, Uiy font.' jove, this last sorrow 
 
 ful night, 
 To cheer the Ions hear -i^t your wounded hus 
 
 sar .' 
 
 Thau shall live, she replied, heaven's mercy 
 lelievius:. 
 
86 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 Each anguishing wound, shall forbid me to 
 mourn ; 
 Ah ! no ; the last pang in my bosom is heav- 
 
 No light of the morn shall to Henr)' return. 
 Thou chamber of life ; ever tender and true. 
 Ye babes of my love, that await me afar i 
 His faltering tongue scarce could murmur, 
 adieu, 
 When lie sunk in her arms — the poor 
 wounded Hussar. 
 
 A TRAVELLER STOPPED, 
 
 A traveller stopp'd at a widow's gate ; 
 Siie kept an inn, and he wanted to bait, 
 
 But the widow she slighted her guest ; 
 For, when nature was making an ugly race, 
 She certainly moulded the traveller's face, 
 
 As a sample for all the rest. 
 
 The chambermaid's sides were ready to crack 
 When she saw his queer nose and the hump 
 on his back, 
 [A hump isn't handsome, no doubt ;J 
 And, though 'tis confessed that the prejudice 
 
 goes, 
 Very strongly in favor of wearing a nose, 
 A nose shouldn't look like a snout. 
 
 A bag full of gold on the table he laid ; 
 It had a wondrous effect on the widow and 
 Maid, 
 And they quickly grew marvellous civil. 
 
VOCVL LYRE. 87 
 
 The money immediatply altered the case, 
 Tlioy were chaim'd with his hump, and his 
 
 snout, and his face, 
 'I'hoiigh he still might have fiiglencd the 
 
 devil. 
 
 Hf paid like a prince, j^ave the widow a smack 
 And llopp'd on his 1-orse at the door like a 
 sack ; 
 AViiile the landlady, touching the chink. 
 Cried, " Sir, should you travel this country 
 
 again, 
 I heartily hope that tl)e sweetest of men 
 Will stop at the widow's to drink." 
 
 THE NORTHEAST WIND. 
 
 The northeast wind did hriskly hlow, 
 
 The ship was safely moored, 
 V()un» Hryan ihouj^ht the boat's crew slow. 
 
 And £0 leapt overhoard. 
 
 Pereeme, the pride of Indian dames, 
 His heart long held in thrall ; 
 
 And who so his his impatience blames, 
 I wot ne'er loved at all. 
 
 A long, long year, one month and a day. 
 
 He dwelt on English land, 
 Nor once in thouglu or deed would stray. 
 
 Though ladies sought his hand. 
 
88 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 For though Bryan he was tall and strong, 
 Right blithsome rolled his e'en, 
 
 Sweet was his voice whene'erhe sung, 
 He scant had twenty seen. 
 
 But who the countless charms can dr«w. 
 That graced his mistress true ; 
 
 Such charms the old world seldom saw, 
 Nor oft, I ween, the new. 
 
 Her raven hair pLiys round her neck. 
 
 Like tendrils of the vine, 
 Her cheeks red dewy rose-buds deck, 
 
 Her eyes like diamonds shine. 
 
 Soon as his well known ship she spied. 
 
 She cast her weeds away, 
 And to the palmy shore she hied, 
 
 All in her best array. 
 
 In sea green silk so neatly clad. 
 
 She there impatient stood. 
 The crew with wonder saw t\ie lad 
 
 •Repel the foaming fiood. 
 
 Kei' hands a handkerchief displayed, 
 
 Whicli he at parting gave. 
 Well pleased, the token he survey'd, 
 
 And manlier beat the wave. 
 
 Her fair companions one and a^ 
 
 Rejoicir?, crowd the strand ; 
 For now her lover swam in call. 
 
 And almojt touch'd the land. 
 
TOCAL LYRE. 5 
 
 Then :nronghthe wight suri'Jtd slva haste 
 
 To clasp her lovely swain ; 
 When, ah ! h shark bit through nis waist ; 
 
 IIjs heart'iB blood died his main. 
 
 He shriek'd ' his half sprang from the wave, 
 
 Streaming '^^'ith purjile gore ; 
 And soon it fu'ind a living grave, 
 
 And, ah ! scan no more. 
 
 Now haste, no'!'- haste, ye mails', I pray, 
 
 Fetch water (>ora the spring ; 
 Siie falls, she swoons, she dies away, 
 
 And soon her knell they ring. 
 
 Now each May norning round her tomb. 
 
 Ye fair fresh Suwerets strew ; 
 So may your lo^^^irs 'scape his doom, 
 
 Ker hapless fate 'scape you. 
 
 THE BilRB'S LEGACY* 
 
 When" in death I shall calnri recline, 
 
 Oh ! bear my heart to my mistress dear 
 Tell her it lived upon smiles and v/ina 
 
 Of the brightest hue, v/hile it linger'd hers i 
 Bid her not shed one tear of sorrow, 
 
 To sully a heart so brillian and light, 
 But balmy drops from the red grape barrow* 
 
 To bathe the relic from morn till night. 
 
 When the light of my song Is o'er, 
 Oh ? take my harp to your ancient ball » 
 
90 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 Hang it up at the friendly door, 
 
 Where weary travellers love to call ; 
 And should some Bard who roams forsaKeo 
 
 Revive its soft notes in passing along, 
 Oh ! let one thought of its master awaken 
 
 Your warmest smile for the child of song- 
 Take this cup, which is now o'eiflovving. 
 
 To grace your revel when I'm at rest, 
 Never, oh ! never its balm bestowing 
 
 On lips thai beauty ins seldom bless'd. 
 B«t if some fond devoted lover 
 
 To her he adores should bathe its brim, 
 Oh I then my spirit around shall hover, 
 
 And hallow each drop that foams for him- 
 T. Moore. 
 
 THE BOLD DRA.GOON* 
 
 There was an ancient fair, O ! she loved a 
 
 neat young man. 
 And she couldn't throw sly looks at him, but 
 only through her fan ; 
 With her winks and blinks, this waddi-ing 
 
 minx, 
 Her quizzing glass, her leer, sidle, 
 O ! she loved a bold dragoon, with his long 
 sword, saddle, bridle, — 
 
 Whack, row-di-dow, 4rc. 
 
 .Shehada roHing eye, its fellow it had notie 
 Would you know the reason why, it was be- 
 cause she had but one ; 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 91 
 
 fVith her winks and blinks, this waddling 
 minx. 
 She couldn't keep her one eye idle, 
 ! she leet'd at this dragoon, with his long' 
 sword, saddle, bridle, — 
 
 Whack, row-di-dow, &c. 
 
 Now he was tall and slim, she squab and short 
 
 was grown. 
 He lock'd just like a mile in length, and she 
 
 like a milestone ; 
 With her winks and blinks, this waddling 
 
 minx. 
 Her quizzing glass, her leer and sidle, 
 ! she sighed to this dragoon, bless your long 
 
 •word, saddle, bridle, 
 
 Whack, row^i-dow, Sec 
 
 Soon he led unto the church the beauteoui Mr*. 
 
 Fiinn, 
 Who a walnut could hare crack'd 'tween her 
 lovely nose and chin ; 
 01 then such winks in marriage links 
 The splays-footed bride from church did sidle 
 As the wife of this dragoon, with his long 
 sword, saddle, bridle, — 
 
 Whack, row-di-dow, &c. 
 
 A twelvemonth scarce had passed when he 
 
 laid her under ground. 
 Soon he threw the onion from his eyes and 
 touch'd ten thousand pourvds 
 For her winks and Winks, her money chinkf 
 He did not let her cash lie idle 
 E2 
 
92 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 So long life to this dragoon wilh his long swo» j 
 saddle, hrldip, — 
 
 V/liack, row-di-dow, &c- 
 
 i THOUGSiT THIS MB ART, 
 
 I TnouGHT this heart cons'in:iing lay 
 
 On Cupid's burning shrme; 
 I thoug'it he stole thy heart away. 
 
 And olac'd i:. near to mine. 
 
 I saw thy heart begin to melt. 
 
 Like ice before fiie sun. 
 Till both a glow congenial felt, 
 
 And mingled into one. 
 
 T. Moore. 
 
 TOM TRUELOVE. 
 
 Tom Tru clove woo'd the sweetest fair 
 
 That e're to tar was kind : 
 Her face was of a beauty rare^ 
 
 More beautiful her mind ; 
 His messmates heard while with delight 
 
 He named her for his bride; 
 A sail appear'd, ah ! fatal sight! 
 
 For grief his love had died. 
 *• Must I," cried he, " those chenins resign 
 
 I lov'd so dear, so well ? 
 Would they had toll'd, instead of thine, 
 
 Tom Truelove's knell. 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 98 
 
 ** Break, heart at once, and there's an end, 
 
 Thou all that Heaven could give ! — 
 But hold, I have a noble friend ; 
 
 Yet, yet for him I'll live." 
 Fortune, who all her halefal spite 
 
 Not yet on Torn had tried. 
 Sent news, one rough, tempestuous night* 
 
 That his dearfiiend had died. 
 " And thou ton • must I thee resign, 
 
 Who honour loved so well ! 
 Would they had toU'd, instead of thine 
 
 Tom Truelove's knell. 
 
 '• Enough, enough, a salt sea wave 
 
 A healing cahn shall bring." — 
 * A sailor you," cried one, '* and bratre ! 
 
 Live still to serve your king !" 
 Tlie moment comes, behold the foe ; 
 
 " Thanks, generous friend," he cried t 
 The second broadside laid him low. 
 
 He named his love and died. 
 The tale, in mournful accents sung. 
 
 His friends still sorrowing tell, 
 How sad and solemn three times rung 
 
 Tom Truelove's knell. 
 
 Dibdtn. 
 
 ETELEEX'S BOWER. 
 
 Oh ! weep for the hour, \ 
 
 When to eveleen's bower. 
 The lord of the valley with false vows came | 
 
fj4 VOC.U. LYUli. 
 
 Trie muon hid licv light 
 From the heavens that night, 
 
 And wept beliind the clouds o'er the maiden*! 
 shame. 
 
 The clouds pass'd soon 
 From the chaste cold moon, 
 
 And heaven smiled again with her vettal flame 
 But none will see the day 
 When the clouds shall pass away 
 
 Whicn that dark hour left upon Eveleen's fame. 
 
 The white «now lay 
 On the narrow path-way, 
 Where the lord of the valley cross'd over the 
 moor ; 
 
 And many a deep print, 
 On the white snow's tint, 
 Show'd the track of his footstep to Dreleen^s 
 door. 
 
 The next sun's ray 
 Soon melted away 
 Every trace on the path where the felss lord 
 came, 
 But there's a light abore, 
 Which alone can remove 
 That stain upon the snow of fair Fveleen's fame. 
 
 T. Moort 
 
 CONJUGAL COMFOKT. 
 
 ♦* Dear John, prithee tell me," cried Ruth, 
 
 To Gubbins, her husband, one day,, 
 ** Dost not think in wod sooth. 
 
VOCAL LYitJi. 96 
 
 I should swear but the truth, 
 
 Did I swear what I'm going to say, 
 That wedlock's state, 
 In good humour, that fate 
 
 Contrived to bk'ss woman and man. 
 And tlial Giles here's an ass, 
 Who such fortune lei's pass ? — 
 
 All should marry as soon as they can.** 
 
 ♦' Why Goody," cried Gubbins, " you know 
 My thoughts of the thing 'fore to-day; 
 
 Nor, a-s I shall show, 
 
 Need one miny miles go, 
 
 To prove wliat I'm going to say, 
 
 Did wives ever scold, 
 
 Were they ugly or old, 
 
 A spouse were a miserable man ; 
 
 But smooth is thier tongue. 
 
 They're all commely and young ! — 
 Giles, get married as soon as you can, 
 
 " If one's children one wish'd in their grave, 
 
 Still plaguing one day after day. 
 The girls fashion's slaves, 
 The boys puppies a»id knaves, 
 
 One then might have something to say j 
 But brats are n ) <;vil, 
 They ne'er play the devil; 
 
 Nor have wives from their dutiy e'er ran ; 
 Then sence mv friend Giles, 
 Wedlock greets you with smiles, 
 
 Get married as soon as you can.'' 
 
 Cried Ruth. " Will you lot your tongue run ' 
 Mere you scurvy old villin, I rule !" 
 
96 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 ♦ Rogues there are said the son, 
 *• But, old Quiz, am I one ?" 
 
 Cried the daughter, " my father's a fool !'* 
 Don't you see," Gubbins cried, 
 
 * I've the tenderest bride. 
 
 And best children that ever bless'd man ? 
 Giles, v/ould you be driven 
 To bedlam or heaven. 
 
 Get married as soon as you can !* 
 
 Dibdin. 
 
 THE WOODPECKEK. 
 
 I KNEW by the smoke, that so gracefully curl'd 
 Above tne green elms, that a cottage was 
 near ; 
 And I said, " If there's peace to be found in 
 the world, 
 A heart that is humble might hope for it 
 here." 
 Every leaf was at rest, and I heard not a sound. 
 But the woodpecker tapping ac the hoilovv 
 beech tree. 
 
 And here, in this loat- lil'Ie wood, I exclaini'd, 
 With a maid who was lovely to soul and to 
 eye. 
 Who would lilush if I praised her, and wecjj 
 
 if I blam'd. 
 How bless'd could I live, and how calm could 
 I die. 
 
 Kvervr leaf was at rest, &c 
 
VOCVL LYRE. 97 
 
 By the shade of yon sumac, whose red berry 
 dips 
 III the gush of the fowntain, how sweet to 
 recline! 
 And to know that I sigh'd upon innocent lips, 
 VVhich ne'er had been sigh'd on b}' any but 
 mine. 
 
 Every leal v/as at rest, && 
 
 CEASE, CEASE, THOSE SIGHS. 
 Cf.ASE, cease, those sighs I cannot bear,- 
 
 Hark ! hark ! the drums are calling; 
 Oh ! I must chide thy coward tear, 
 Or kiss it as 'tis falling. 
 
 Eliza, l)id thy soldier go: 
 
 Why thus my heart-strings sever? 
 Ah I be not then my honour's foe. 
 
 Or I am lost for ever. 
 
 True benevolence above, 
 
 With mind resign'd and steady; 
 He'll never wound, believe me, love. 
 
 The heart that's broke already. 
 
 Serene yon dreadful field I see, 
 
 W'hatfcver fate betide me ; 
 Tiiy shelter innoce«ce shall be. 
 
 And I've no wish beside thee. 
 
 THE B.VJ^KS OF BANNA.. 
 
 Shzpherds. I have lost my love, 
 I Have you sten my Ann;* ^ 
 
9S VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 Pride of every shady grove, 
 Upon the banks of Banna, 
 
 I for her my home forsook. 
 
 Near yon misty mountain, 
 Left my flock, my pipe, my crook, 
 
 Greenwood shade, and fountain. 
 
 Never shall I see them more. 
 
 Until her ijeturning; 
 All the joys of life are o'er. 
 
 From gladness cliangM to mourning. 
 
 Whither is my charmer flown, 
 Shepherds, tell me, whithea ? 
 
 Ah ! wo for me, perhaps she's gone, 
 P'or ever and for ever 
 
 THE BARREL OF ALE. 
 
 Old Owen liv'd on the brow of a hill, 
 
 And he bad more patience than pelf; 
 A small lot of ground 'twas liis labour to till. 
 
 And he toil'd through the day by himself. 
 But at 3igl»t crowds of visiter's call'd at his eot, 
 
 For he told a right marvellous tale; 
 Yet a stronger attraction had got, 
 
 A barrel of old humming ale. 
 
 Old Owen hy all was an oracle thought. 
 While they drank, not a joke fail'd to hit, 
 
 But Owen at lust by experience was taught. 
 That wisdom is better than wit 
 
VOCAL LYRE- 99 
 
 One night his cot scarcely could hold tlie gay 
 rout, 
 The next not a soul heard his talc ; 
 The moral is, simply, they'd fairly drank out 
 His barrel of old humming ale. 
 
 C. Bib din Jun. 
 
 TAKE, OH I TAKE M\ FEABS 
 AWAY. 
 
 Fake, oh . take my fears away, 
 
 Whicn thy cold disdain has bred : 
 And grant me one auspicious ray. 
 From thy morn of beauties shed, 
 But thy killing beams restrain. 
 Lest 1 be by beauty slain. 
 
 Spread, oh ! spread those orient twlcs. 
 
 Which thy snowy bosom grace ; 
 Where love in milk and roses swims, 
 BliacJ with lustre of thy tace. 
 But let love thaw 'em first, lest I 
 Do on those frozen mountains die. 
 
 BY MOONLIGHT ON THE 
 GREEN. 
 
 By moonlight on the green, 
 
 Where lads and lasses stray, 
 How sweet the blossoms beam^ 
 
 How sweet the new made bay ? 
 3ut not to me so sweet 
 
 The blossoms on the thorn, 
 Af vben my lad I meet< 
 
100 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 More fresh than May-day morn J 
 Give me the lad so blithe and gay. 
 
 Give me the tartan-pladie ; 
 For, spite of all the wise can say, 
 CU wed my Highland laddie, 
 
 My bonny Kighiand laddie, 
 
 My bonny Highland laddie. 
 
 My boHny, bonny, bonny, bonny. 
 
 Bonny Highland laddie. 
 
 His skin is White as snow, 
 
 His een are bonny blue, 
 Like rose bud sweet his mou*. 
 
 When wet wi' morning dew. 
 Young Willis rich and great. 
 
 And fain would ca' me his ; 
 But what is pride or state, 
 
 VVii.houl love's smiling bliss ? 
 
 Give me that lad, &c.. 
 
 When first he ta^k'd of love, 
 
 He look'd sae blithe and gay, 
 His flame I did approve, 
 
 Aud could na say him nay. 
 Then to the kirk Tl' haste. 
 
 There prove my love and truth : 
 Reward a love sae chaste, 
 
 And wed the constant youth. 
 
 Give me the lad. &o 
 
 THERE'S NOUGHT BUT CARE 
 
 There's nought but care on every han', 
 Id every hour that passes, O I 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 101 
 
 iVhat signi&es the life o' man. 
 An' twe.ena for the lasses, O ! 
 Green grow the rashes, O ! 
 Green grow tiJic rashes, O ! 
 The sweetest hours that e'er I feel, 
 Are spent amang the lasses, O i 
 
 The Warly race may riches chase, 
 An' riclies still may fiy them, O . 
 
 An' tlio' a( last, they catch them fast, 
 Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, i 
 
 Green grow the rashes, ! 
 
 oie me a cannie hour at e en, 
 
 My arms about my dearie, O ! 
 Then warly cares un' waily men, 
 
 May a' gae tapsalteeiie, O ! 
 
 Green grow the rashes, &c. 
 
 For you're sae douse ! ye sneer at this, 
 Ye're nought but senseless asses, O ! 
 
 The wisest man ihe warl' e'er saw, 
 He dearly loved the lasses, O ! 
 
 Green grow the rashes, &c. 
 
 Aul-d nature swears, the lovely dears, 
 Her noblest work she classes, O [ 
 
 Her 'prentice han' she tried on man, 
 An' then she made the lasses, O ! 
 
 Green grow the rashes, ifo. 
 
 AH, SURE A FAIR. 
 
 Ah ! sure a pair was never seen, 
 So justly formed to meet by natnre } 
 
102 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 The youth excelling is iu mein, 
 The maid in every grace and ffealure. 
 Oh ! how happy are such lovers. 
 When kindred beauties each discover* i 
 For surely she 
 Was made for thee. 
 And thou to Wess this loveiy cieature. 
 
 So mJnd your looks, your children thence 
 
 Will early learn the path of duty : 
 The boys with all their father's strength, 
 The girls with all their mother'? beauty ; 
 Oh ! how happy to inherit 
 At once such graces and such spirit. 
 Thus while you live, 
 May fortune give 
 Elach blessing equal to your merit. 
 
 THE SPORTSMAN'S DELIGHT. 
 
 From the east breaks the morn ; 
 
 See the sunbeam's adorn 
 The wild heath and the mountains so high ! 
 
 Shrilly opes the stanch hound, 
 
 The steed neighs to the sound, 
 And the floods and the valleys reply. 
 
 Our forefathers so good. 
 Proved their greatness of blood, 
 
 By encounterjijg the pard and the boar ; 
 Ruddy heakh bloom'd the face, 
 *-gc and youth urged the chase, 
 
 Arid tewght woodkads end forests to roar. 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 103 
 
 Hence of noble descent. 
 
 Hills and wilds we frequent, 
 Where the oosom of nature's reveal'dj 
 
 Though in life's busy day 
 
 Man of man makes a prey. 
 Still let ours be the the prey of the field. 
 
 With the ehase in full sight, 
 
 Gods, how great the delight! 
 How our mutual sensation-s refine! 
 
 Where is care ? where is fear ? 
 
 Like the winds in the rear; 
 And the man's lost in soa>ethin.g divine. 
 
 Now to horse, my boys ; 
 
 Lo, each pants for the joys 
 That anon shall eivilven the whole ; 
 
 Then at e\ e we'll dismount, 
 
 Toils and pleasures recount, 
 Vnd renew the chase over the bow^ 
 
 THE WORLD IS ALL NONSENSE. 
 
 The world is all noRsenye and noise. 
 Fantoccini, or Ombres Chmoises, 
 Mere patomime niummery, 
 Puppetshow flummery, 
 A magical lanthorn confounding the sight; 
 Like players or puppets we move, 
 On wires of ambhiou acd love i 
 Poets write "vvittily, 
 Maidens look prettily. 
 
104 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 Till death drop-s the curtain — all's over, good 
 night ! 
 
 WHAT IS WOMAN LIKE. 
 
 A WOMAN is like to— but stay — 
 What woman is ikie who can say ? 
 There is no living with or without one. 
 Love bites like a fly, 
 Now an ear. now an eye, 
 Buzz, buzz, alsvays bu-zzing about one- 
 Whc-n she's tender and kind, 
 She is like to my mind 
 (And Fanny was so I remember,) 
 She is like to— Oh, dear ! 
 She's as good, very near, 
 As a npe melting peach in September. 
 If she laugh and she cliat. 
 Play, joke, and all that. 
 And witlj smiles and good humour she bdp ♦ 
 me, 
 
 She's like a rich dish, 
 Of venison or fish, 
 That cries from the table, Come eat me ! 
 But she'll plague you, and vex you. 
 Distract and perplex you ; 
 Falsehearted and ranging,— 
 Unsettled and changing; 
 What, then, do yoii think she is like ? 
 Like a sand ? like a rock? 
 Lihe a wheel ? like a clock ? 
 Ay, a clock that is always at strike, 
 
 Her head's ViVe the island that folks tell « 
 
VOCAL LYKS. 106 
 
 Wtiich nothin;^ I)ut iiiookeya can dwell Otti 
 Her heart's like a lomon — so nice. 
 She carves for each lover a slice ; 
 
 In truth she's to rae, 
 
 Liiie the wind, like the sea, 
 Whose raging will hearken to no man 
 
 Like a miil, like a pill. 
 
 Like a flail, like a whale, 
 
 Like an ass, like a glasri, 
 Whose image is constant to no man ; 
 
 Like a flower, like a shower. 
 
 Like E £y, like a pie. 
 
 Like a pea, like a flea, 
 
 Like a thief, like — in brief, 
 She's like notliio"; on earth— but a woman ! 
 
 EWCOMFA&SED IN AN ANGEL'S 
 
 FRAME. 
 
 EncompAss'd in an angel's frame 
 
 An angel's virtues lay ; 
 Too soon, did ht^ayen assert its claim. 
 
 And caird its own away. 
 My Anna's worth, my Anna's charnu 
 
 Must never moj-e return i 
 What now shall fill these widow d arra«? 
 
 An, me ! — my Anna's urn. 
 
 Can I forget that bliss refined, 
 Which bless'd wlien her I knew* 
 
 Our heart's, in sacred bonds entwined, 
 Were bound by love too true. 
 
 The rural train, which once were used 
 
106 VOCAL LYRE.. 
 
 In festive dance to turn, 
 So pleased wh^n Anna they amirsed, 
 Now, weeping, deck her uin. 
 
 The soul escaping from its chain, 
 
 She clasp'd me to her breast; 
 *' To part with thee is all my pain ! " 
 
 She cried— then sunk to rest. 
 While meirory shall her seat retain, 
 
 From beauteous Anna torn, 
 My heart shall breathe its ceaseless sira n 
 
 01 sorrow o'er her urn. 
 
 Tijere, with the earliest dawn, a dove 
 
 Laments her murdej'd mate : 
 There Philomela, lost to iove, 
 
 Tells the pale moon her fate. 
 With yew aud ivy round me sprsad. 
 
 My Anna there I'll mourn ; 
 For kU my soul—now she is dead. 
 
 Concentres in ner urn. 
 
 I WAS THE BOl^. 
 
 I WAS the boy for bewitching 'em. 
 Whether good humour'd or coy ; 
 
 All cried, when I was beseeching 'eop 
 Do what you will with me, jo)-. 
 
 Daughters be cautious and steady, 
 Mammies would cry ouf for fear : 
 
 *^hy don't you take care of Teddy ? 
 
VOCAL LYRE, 107 
 
 Oh ! he's the devil my dear . 
 For I was the boy for bewitching 'em, &c 
 
 From every quarter I gather'd 'era, 
 
 Very few rivals had I ; 
 If I found any, I lalher'd 'em, 
 
 That made 'em pla5.niily shy. 
 Pat Moony my Shelah once meeting, 
 
 I iwigg'd him beginning his claek ; 
 Says he, at my heart I've a beating, 
 
 Says I, then take one at your buck. 
 For I a^n the boy for bewitching 'em, Sec 
 
 Many a lass that would fly away, 
 
 When other wooers but spoke ; 
 Once if I look her a die-away, 
 
 There was an end of the joke. 
 IJfioiitie*; no matter how cruel, 
 
 Hundreds of lads though they cross'd, 
 When I came nigh to them, jewel. 
 
 Melted like mud in a frost. 
 For I was the boy for bewitching 'em, &c 
 
 MEETING OF THE WATERS. 
 
 There is not in this wide world a valley so 
 
 sweet. 
 As that Vale in whose bosom the bright waters 
 
 meet; 
 Oh ! the last rays of feeling and life must de- 
 part, 
 Ere the nloom of that valley sha-ll fade froir 
 
 my heart. 
 
 r 
 
lOS VoCaL lyhe. 
 
 Yet it was not that nature had shed o'er the 
 
 scene 
 Her purest of duystal, her brightest of green , 
 'Twas not the soft magic of streamlet or hill : 
 Oh! no — it was something more exquisite 
 
 still.— 
 
 'Twas that friends, tne belov'd of my bosom 
 
 were near. 
 Who made every dear scene of enchantrnen* 
 
 m»r9 dear.; 
 And •who felt how the best charms of nature 
 
 improve, 
 When W8 see them reflected from looks that 
 
 we love. 
 
 Sweet vale of Ovoca ! how calm could I rest. 
 In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love 
 
 best : 
 Where the stoims which we feel in this cold 
 
 world should cease, 
 And our hearts, like thy waters be ratngled in 
 
 peace. 
 
 LET OTHERS BREATHE. 
 
 List others breathe the melting sigh, 
 And swear they love to madness ; 
 
 To them I leave tne tearlul eye, 
 And all love's sober raaanesa. 
 
 No tender vows or prayers are mine, '' 
 But this I swear sincerely, 
 
 W,hile truth and honest love are thine, 
 I'll love thee e^er dearly, 
 
VOCAL LYER. 109 
 
 Tben lady though I scorn the wilda 
 
 Which love too oft discovers, 
 Ne'er spurn tbe heart that woos hi smiles 
 
 For smiles were made for lovers •, 
 Aad though his tende-r vows are mine 
 
 Yet this I swear. Sec. 
 
 DESERTED BY THE WANING 
 MOON. 
 
 Ijeserted by the waning moon, 
 When skies proclaim niglit's eheerless noon. 
 On tower, or fort, or tented ground, 
 The sentry walks his lonely round; 
 And should a footstep haply stray 
 **Viiere caution marks the guarded way, 
 A'ho goes there ? stranger, quickly tell^ 
 A friend — a Aiend — good night — all's well: 
 
 Oi sailing on the midnight deep, 
 While weary messmates soundly sleep, 
 The careful watch patroles the deck. 
 To guard the sliip fro'n foes or wreck ; 
 And while his thoughts oft homeward veer. 
 Some well known voice salutes his ear — 
 W^hat cheer ! oh ! brother, quickly tell. 
 Above I— below ! — good night! — all's well. 
 
 liOVE AMOXG.TffE ROSES. 
 
 YouwG Love flew to the Paphian bower. 
 And gqther'd sweets from many a flower 
 
110 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 From roses and sweet jessamine, 
 The lily and the eglautine ; 
 The graces there were culling posies, 
 And fonnd young Love among the roses. 
 
 Oh happy day ! O joyous hour . 
 Compose a wreath from every flower; 
 Let's bind him to us, ne'er to sever, 
 Young Love shall dwell with us for ever 
 Eternal spring the wreath composes, 
 Content to live among the roses. 
 
 Young Love among the roses, Sec, 
 
 THE MAIL COACH. 
 
 Come listen to my story, 
 Now sealed in my glory 
 
 We make no longer stay ; 
 A bottle of good sherry 
 Has made us all quite merry 
 
 Let Momus rule the day — 
 We hearty all and well are. 
 Drive to the White Horse Cellar, 
 
 Get a snack before we go — 
 Bring me a leg of mutton, 
 I'm as hungry as a glutton, 
 
 Some gravy soup— hollo ' 
 
 Spoken.] AVhy, waiter — coming, sir, — Makti 
 baste, do : I shail lose my place !— Coming in 
 a moment, sir, just take care of IN'o. !..— Ten 
 minutes go d yet, sir— I hope your honour 
 will rcmem-ber honest Dic!>: the I ostlfer. — Re- 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 11 1 
 
 emner ! damme, I shall never forget you. - 
 "Why, waiter, and be chmn'd to you, is my 
 soup really ? — Just put on the gridiron. — Jo- 
 seph, will you let me have some table beer . 
 — Just put in the pot, ma'am. — Waiter. — Sir, 
 — Are my steaks ready ? — No Sir, but your 
 chops are — Any passengers for the Glo'ster 
 mail ?— Yes, young man, I'm going by the 
 Glo'ster mail, the moment I can get my change. 
 — Can't wait for your change ; if I'm not a 
 Lombard-street by seven o'clock, to receive 
 the bags, I shall get puli'd over the coals, [Horn 
 
 Away, away, we rattle, 
 Snch crowds of men and cattle ; 
 Crack whip, they dash away, 
 They dash away, they dasl: away. 
 
 What a cavalcade of coaches 
 On every side approaches. 
 
 What work for man and beast t 
 To have a liule drop, sir, 
 We first of all must stop, sir, 
 
 Then afterwards make haite ; 
 1 mount — the whip I crack now, 
 All bustle what a pack now 
 
 On every side approach ; 
 Now making sad gifmaces. 
 All for the want of places, 
 
 They cry — I've lost the coach. 
 
 Spoken.] How's this ? I'm sure my name wai 
 bcok'd.— Very likely, raa'ara, bat not here — 
 Mr. Coachman, ar>y room for two femalei ? 
 
112 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 — None at all for females; this is a ma^.e coach. 
 Laugh. J Tie a handkerchief round your neck, 
 Billy.--- Yes, papa; give my duty to grandmaraa 
 — I will, my love. — Good bye, papa. — Good 
 bye, m}!- love, — All right behind, cut em along. 
 [Horn.] Away, away, we rattle, &c. 
 
 Four in hand from Picadilly, 
 Now seated in the dilly. 
 
 Off we scamper all ; 
 What merry wags and railers," 
 What Jolly dogs and sailors, 
 
 Begu-n to sing the bawl. 
 From every place v.-e start now, 
 Some company depart now, 
 
 And others come, no doubt ; 
 For plenty the-r's of room now. 
 For any one that come now. 
 
 Four iusides and one out. 
 
 Spolren.] I say, you lobster at the helm, have 
 you got any room aboard ? — Plenty of room 
 my jolly masters , there's only four inside and 
 a fat common-councilman. — You've put my 
 trurvk \nto the wrong coach. — Never mind, 
 ma'am, we shall soon overtake it. — Pray, ma- 
 dam, an't you sitting on my Welch wig ?-~ 
 Hold your tongue, you noisy brute you ; you've 
 awoke me out of a comfortable nap. — Knep 
 the windows up ; I've caught cold and got a 
 stiff neck — Now, if you p'ease, sir, we'll settle 
 legs. — Mit all my shoul, madam, — Hallo! mis- 
 sps you can't have that there parrot •inside; 
 
VOCAL LYRE. liS 
 
 one tODgue's enough for a female. — Taka 
 care of your heads (Whip,) and hit 'em twice 
 in a place. [Horn.] 
 
 Away, away, we rattle, 4fC. 
 
 MOULIKE'^ MARIA. 
 
 'TwaS near a tlvicket's calm retreat, 
 
 L'rider a poplar tree, 
 Maria chose her wretched seat 
 
 To mourn her sorrows free. 
 Her lovely form was sweet to view. 
 
 As dawn at opening day ; 
 But, ah ! si)e morn'd her love untrae, 
 
 Awl wept her cares away. 
 
 The brook flow'd gently at her feet, 
 
 In murmurs smooth along, 
 Her pipe, which once she tuned most sweet, 
 
 Had now forgot its song. 
 No more to charm the vale she tries, 
 
 For grief has fiil'd her breast. 
 Those joys whicfe once she used to priae. 
 
 But love has robb'd her rest. 
 
 Poor helpless maid, who can behold 
 
 Thy sorrows so severe, 
 And heat thy lovelorn story told. 
 
 Without a falling tear ? 
 Mari-a. luckless maid, adieu ! 
 
 Thy sorrows soon must cease ; 
 For heaven will take a maid bo true 
 
 To everlasting peace. 
 
114 YDCAL LTRE. 
 
 HE WAS FAMED 
 
 He wa* iamed for deeds of HriDJ 
 She a mdid of envied charms ; 
 Now to him her love imparts, 
 One pure flame prevades both hearts ; 
 Honour calls him to the field, 
 Love to conquest now must yjeld ; 
 
 Sweet maid ! he cries, again I'll to come lCi^e. 
 
 When the glad trumpet sounds a victory. 
 
 Battle now with fury glows ! 
 Hostile b'ood in torrents flows ? 
 His duty talks him to depart, 
 She press'd the hero to her heart. 
 And now the trumpet sounds to arms, 
 And now the clash of war's alarms! 
 Sweet maid ! he cries, again I'll come to thee, 
 When the glad trumpet sounds a victory. 
 
 He with love and conquest burns, 
 Both subdue his mind by turns ; 
 Death the soldier now enthralls ! 
 With bis wounds the hero falls ? 
 She, disdaining war's alarms, 
 Rush'd and caught him in her arms ! 
 O dea>th ! he cried, thou'rt welcome now to me 
 For, hark ! the glad trumpet sounds a victory. 
 
 DOES THE HARP OF ROSA* 
 
 Does the harp of Rosa slumber ? 
 Ooe£ it hrtaihedJ-iie sweetegt numlM^ 
 
VOCAL LYRE. lift 
 
 Ney«r did a wilder song 
 Steal the breeay lyre along. 
 When ihe wind, in odours dying, 
 Woos it with enamour'd sigldng- 
 
 Does the harp of Rosa cease 1- 
 Once it told a tale of peace, 
 To her lover's throbbing brea»t. 
 Then he was divinely bless'd , 
 Ah ! hut Rosa lores no more, 
 Therefore Rosa's song is o'er, 
 And her boy forgotten sighs, 
 And her harp neglected lies. 
 Silent harp, forgotten lover, 
 Rosa's love and song are over . 
 
 BLOW HIGH, BLOW LOW 
 
 Blow high, blow low, let tempests tear 
 
 The main mast by the board : 
 My heart, with thoughts of thee, my dear. 
 
 And love well stored, 2 
 Shall brave all danger, scorn all fear, 
 The roaring winds, the raging lea. 
 In hopes on shore 
 To be once more 
 Safe moor'd with thee, 
 
 Aloft wiiila mountains high we go, 
 
 The whistling winds that scud along, 
 And the surge roaring from below 
 Shall my signal be, 
 F 2 
 
116 VOCAL LYRE 
 
 To think on ihee. 
 And this shall be ray song : 
 
 Blow high, blow low^ dfcc 
 
 And on that night when all the crew 
 The memory of their former lifes 
 
 O'er flowing cans of flip renew, 
 And drink their sv/eetheartsand their wive* 
 
 I'll heave a sigh and think on thee ; 
 
 And, as the ship rolls through the sea, 
 
 The burthen of my song shall be — 
 
 Blow high, blow low, &C. 
 
 FROM THEE, ELIZA* 
 
 From thee, Eliza, I must go, 
 
 And from my native shore ; 
 The cruel fates between us throw 
 
 A boandlcss ocean's roar; 
 But boundless oceans, roaring wid« 
 
 Between my love and me, 
 They never, never can divide 
 
 My heart and soul from thee. 
 
 Farewell, farewell, Eliza dear, 
 
 The maid that I adore ; 
 A boding voice io in my ear, 
 
 We part to meet no more ! 
 But the last throb that leaves my heart, 
 
 While death stands victor by, 
 That throb, Eliza, is thy part 
 
 And thine that latest sigh ! 
 
VOCAL LYRE, 117 
 
 OI NOTHING IN LIFE. 
 
 NOTHIBG in life can sadden us, 
 While we have wine and good hucnour id 
 store ; 
 That, and a little of love to m? dden us, 
 Say, where is the fool that can labour for 
 more ? 
 Conae, then, bid Ganymede fill every bowl for 
 you. 
 Fill up a brimmer and drink as I call^ 
 I'm going to toast ev'ry nymph of my soul '^O 
 you; 
 Aye, by my soul, I'm in love with them alL 
 Dear creatures, we can't live without 'em, 
 They're all that is sweet and seduo-ing W 
 man; 
 Coaxing-, sighing about and about them. 
 We dote on them, die for them, all that we 
 ean. 
 
 Here's to Phillis, whose innocent bosom 
 Is always agog for some novel desires ; 
 To dav to get lovers, to-morrow to lose *em, 
 
 Is all that the innocent Phillis requires. 
 Here's to the gay little Jessy that simpers 
 
 So vastly good humour'd, whatever is done 
 She'll kiss yon, and that without whining or 
 whimpers. 
 And do what she will with you all the day 
 long. 
 
 Deak jreatures, we can't, tee. 
 
 A bumpor to Fanny ; I know that youll scon 
 her^ 
 
118 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 Because she's a prude, and ber nose is so 
 curl'd, 
 But if eyer you chatted with fdn in a corner 
 You'd say she was the best little g:d in the 
 world. 
 Another! To Lydia, still struggling with duty 
 Ar.d asking her conscience whether she 
 should, 
 While her eyes, in the silent confession ol 
 beauty, 
 Say, only for something I certainly would 
 Dear creatures we can't, &c. 
 
 DEAR BUSY BEE. 
 
 Dear busy bee, through nature flying, 
 
 Should'st thou behold the maid I love 
 Steal to her breast, and gently sighing, 
 
 Taste what I liare not, must not prove. 
 Catch in the fluttering of thy pinion. 
 
 Sighs which are breathed for her alone, 
 Say that preferring her dominion, 
 
 Love on my heart has fix'd his throne. 
 
 Should she, too careless of her lover. 
 
 Smile on the flattering circle round, 
 And by her eyes s joy discover 
 
 When in \\er ear their praises sound, 
 Rise on thy wing in pit}' to me, 
 
 Hum round the dear deluded maid; 
 Break by thy voice wha.. might undo me» 
 
 Stifie each sentence falseliood made. 
 
 Still, if ensnared by giddy fashion, 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 119 
 
 Spite of ihy care and bwzzing wing, 
 Strangers encroach upon my passion. 
 
 Perch on her lips, and wet thy siing ! 
 Guard, if thou canst, the balmy tr^aiure, 
 
 VViiich to those lips the loves impart, 
 Punish each wretch with 'vengeful pleasure. 
 
 Teach him to trespass on my heart. 
 
 CHARMS OF THE WORLD, 
 
 Charms of the world, your wizard spell 
 
 On me no power can prove ; 
 Ambition, pleasure, wealth, farewell, 
 
 I give you all for love. 
 
 When first the infant Eden smiled, 
 
 A rose's breath the air, 
 The garden world wes but a wild, 
 
 Sweet woman was not there, 
 
 Charms of the world, Ac 
 
 But when from Paradise to rove. 
 
 Our erring race v/as driven, 
 One fnithful exile, woman's love, 
 
 Made banishment a heaven. 
 
 Charms of the world, ice. 
 
 WIIAr A BEAUTY I DID GROW. 
 
 When I was a little boy, 
 Some fifteen years ago, 
 
120 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 t was the pride of my mammy, 
 Lord ' she made me quite a show. 
 Such a beauty I did 
 
 I'd red straight hair and gogp^le eyes, 
 
 And such a roguish leer ; 
 A large flat nose, and mouth 
 
 That reach'd from ear to car. 
 
 Such a beauty, kc 
 
 My mammy doled on me, 
 
 And when my mouth she'd fill, 
 For fear she'ii spoil it with a spoon, 
 
 She fed me with a quill. 
 
 Such a beauty &C. 
 
 And when that I could run alone, 
 
 Stoclc still I never stood ; 
 The ducks were my companioB«, 
 
 As I waddled through the mud I 
 
 Such a b«auty, &«. 
 
 Then I learned to be musical, 
 
 And got off songs so pat, 
 I could grunt base like any pig, 
 
 Mew treble like a cat. 
 
 Such a beauty, 8[C. 
 
 Then I went to a dancing schoel, 
 
 For to be finished there, 
 And they said I danced a minuet 
 
 As graceful as a bear. 
 
 Such a beauty lee 
 
 Witli a mountebank a cnndidata. 
 
VOCAL LYRE. I2l 
 
 I beat them all quite hollow, 
 Aad I won this pretty gold laced hat 
 By gfinning thioiign a collar. 
 
 Such a besmty, See. 
 
 My name is Tommy Herring, 
 
 As every body knows, 
 And they stick me iu t!ie hurley fields, 
 
 To frighten off the crows, 
 
 Such a beauty, Sok 
 
 3BAS ANDERSON, MY JO. 
 
 When uature first began, Jean, 
 
 To try her cannie hand, 
 It's true she first made man, Jean, 
 
 And gae bim great command; 
 But naethlng wad content him, Jean, 
 
 Tho' king o' a below, 
 Till heaven in pity sent him. Jean, 
 
 What maist he wishM — a jo ? 
 
 The' some may say Ym auld, Jeaa, 
 
 And say th« name o' thee, 
 Ne'er fret to hear it tauld, Jean, 
 
 You still look young to me : 
 An' weel I mind the day, Jean, 
 
 Your breast as white as snow. 
 And waist sae jimp, ane might it span,— 
 
 Jean Anderson, my jo ! 
 
 Our bonny bairns' bairns, Jean, 
 Wi' rapture do I see 
 
i22 YOCAL LYR« 
 
 Come toildHn' to the fireside, 
 Or sit upon my knee : 
 
 If tbefe is plea«nre, here, Jean, 
 Orhappinesi below, 
 
 This sure.y maun be likest it, 
 Jean Anderson, my jo ! 
 
 Though age has siller'd ower my pow. 
 
 Sin we were 5rat acquent, 
 And chang'd my glossy raven loak. 
 
 It's left us still eoDtent ; 
 An' eld ne'er comes alane, Jean, 
 
 But aft brings many a wo, 
 Yet we've nae cause for sic complaiot, 
 
 Jean Anderson, my jo ! 
 
 ,n innocence we ve spent ouf aays. 
 
 An' pleasant looks the past ; 
 Nae anxious thoughts alarm us. 
 
 We're cheerfu' to the last ; 
 'Till death knocks at our door, Jean^ 
 
 And warn us baitli to go, 
 Contented we will live an love, 
 
 Jean Anderson, my jo ! 
 
 fi's now alang, lang time, Jean, 
 
 Siu' you an I begun 
 To sprachel up life's hill, Jean i 
 
 Our race is nearly run ; 
 We baith hae done our best, Jean ; 
 
 Our sun is wearin' low, 
 5ae let us quietly sink to rest, 
 
 Jean Anderson, my jo ! 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 123 
 
 I'LL TO MY LOVE PKOVB TRUE. 
 
 Oh, no ! though rank and riches sue. 
 
 And poor and humble he— 
 ril ne'er prove to my love uutrue, 
 
 My world — my all to me ! 
 For, o-h ! when all the world desert 
 
 And life's fair scenes grow dim, 
 1 lien is tt>e time a wife slionld prove 
 The world and all to him ! 
 Ti ere's love, and friends, and kindttdW? 
 
 In wedlock's unity — 
 And still I'll to my love prove trae, 
 As he proved true to me I 
 
 Around the hallowed name of wife, 
 
 Glide rapture, truth, and health — 
 Her breast your pillow — arms your home— 
 
 Her heart your dearest weaJth ! 
 Friends may betray — and love prove fal»e— « 
 
 As clouds appear in view — 
 But let fate frown, and fortune lower, 
 
 You* wife will still prove true. 
 
 There's love. Sec 
 
 M\ HIGHLAND HO«I£. 
 
 Mi: highland home, where tempests blow. 
 
 And cold thy wintry looks , 
 Thy mountains crown'd wi* driven snow. 
 
 And ice-bound are thy brooki t 
 But colder far's the Briton's heart, 
 
 However far be roam, 
 
124 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 To whom these words no joy impart 
 My native highland home. 
 
 When surrmer comes, the heather bef. 
 
 Shall tempt thy feet to rove ; 
 The cushat-dove within the dell 
 
 Invites to peace and love : 
 For blithesome is the break o( day, 
 
 And ev/ent the bonny broom, 
 And pure the dimpling rills that play 
 
 Around my highland home. 
 
 Then gang vvi' me to Scotland, Set, 
 
 THE FALL OF AlLGlHRS. 
 
 When France was subdu'd, and in dust laid 
 
 her power, 
 England hoped that her triumph long peace 
 
 would restore ; 
 But a barbarous foe in an insolent hour, 
 Drew down her just vengeance to punish tli« 
 
 Moor. 
 For the trideut of England shall still rale the 
 
 wave, 
 To protect the oppressed and enfranchise ttie 
 
 slave • 
 
 Tlie infidels thought, when dismantled her fleet, 
 And her seamen return'd and dispers'd 09 
 her shores. 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 126 
 
 That the spoils of the main would soon lie at 
 tlieir feet, 
 And no flag rule the sea but the flag of thP 
 Moors ! 
 
 Humanity sigh'd to see Afric enslave 
 The Christians that fortuue had thrown in 
 her hand . 
 
 And Europe might blush to behold on the wave 
 A pirate that plunder'd both ocean and land! 
 
 To England the nations appeal in their fears, 
 And when did they ask for protection in 
 vain? 
 For Exmouth, m thunder, bore down on Al- 
 giers, 
 To make the Moors yield to the Lords of the 
 Main I 
 
 Like lightning he split every moon>crejted 
 
 tower, 
 And with flames swept their plundering ships 
 
 from the sea \ 
 He humbled the Dey, who bent low to his 
 power, 
 And set all the Christians from slvery free ! 
 For the trident, Ac 
 
 WHEN THE ROSE-BUD. 
 
 "When the rose-bud of summer, its beauty be- 
 stowing, 
 On winter's rude banks all its sweetness shaB 
 pour, 
 
126 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 ^dthe suDfhine of day in night's darknen be 
 glowing, 
 O ! then, dearest Ellen, Vll love yoa no 
 more. 
 
 When of hope the last spark, which thy smile 
 Joved to cherish, 
 It my Dosom shall die. and it's splendour bo 
 o'er, 
 And the pulse of that heart which adores yott 
 shall perish, 
 Oh ! then, dearest Ellen, I'll love you ^ao 
 oiore* 
 
 THIS] LIFE IS LIKE. 
 
 This life is like a troubled sea, 
 Where, helns-a-weather or a-lee. 
 The ship will neither stay nor vftM 
 But drives, of every rock in fear : 
 All seamanship in vain we try, 
 We cannot keep her steadily; 
 But just as fortune's wind may blow. 
 The vessel's tossed to and fro ; 
 Yet come but love on board, 
 Our hearts with pleasure storod, 
 No storm can overwhelm ^ 
 
 Still blows in vain, 
 
 The hurricane, 
 While he is at the helm. 
 
 ii))b(Un. 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 127 
 
 ANAGREOIV, THEY SAY. 
 
 AJTACREorr, they say, was a jolly old blade, 
 A Grecian choice spirit, and poet oy trade ; 
 To Venus and Bacciius he tuned up his lays; 
 For love and a bumper he sung all his days. 
 
 He laugh'd and he quaflf'd still the juice of the 
 vine. 
 
 And though he was human, was look'd on di- 
 vine; 
 
 At the feast of good humour he always was 
 there, 
 
 And his fanc)' and sonnets still banish'd dull 
 care. 
 
 Good wine, boys, says he, is the liquor of Jove 
 Tis our comfort below, and their nectar above. 
 Then while round Ihe table the bumper we 
 
 pass, 
 Let the toast be to Venns and each smiling 
 
 lass. 
 
 Apollo may torment his catgut or wire, 
 
 Yet Bacchus or Beauty the theme must in 
 
 sp.re ; 
 Or else all his humming and strumming i^ 
 
 vain 
 The true joys of heaven he'd never obtain. 
 
 To love and be loved, how transporting the 
 
 bliss. 
 While the heai t-chee*ing glass gives a xest to 
 
 each kiss , 
 With Bacchus and Venus we'll ever combine ) 
 For drinking and kissing are pleasures divine. 
 
128 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 As 8CBS of Anacreon then let us be gay, 
 With drinking and love pass the moflients » 
 
 way; 
 With wine and with beauty let's fill up the 
 
 span, 
 For that's the best method, deny it who can. 
 
 C09EE, OLD TIME. 
 
 Come, old Time, and use thy sickle, 
 Life's a weight I cannot bear ; 
 
 Cares are constant, forrune fickle, 
 And our joys but trifles are. 
 
 Friends are slmdows that deceive nf, 
 In our wants they disappear ; 
 
 The world's too base for heaven to give us 
 Any real blessings here. 
 
 COItEE, ALL YOU MAIDS. 
 
 Come, all you maids, who fain would — marry, 
 
 Learn, learn of me ihs way to choose ; 
 Rather by half tiU doomsday — tarry. 
 
 Than beauty on an old man — lose. 
 Ah ! tell me how can wrinkles — charm you ? 
 
 What joys can age excite or— prove f 
 Let then, your dangenous state — alarm you. 
 
 And choose a young man that can — .ove. 
 
 An old man always will be— whcsziitg, 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 129 
 
 No feeling, bearing, taste, or — sij;nt j 
 
 A. voung mail always will be — pleasing, 
 
 Uprightly all day and kind at— rwght. 
 
 Ah ! tell me, hew. &c 
 
 DISTRESS MB WITH THESE 
 TEARS. 
 
 Distress me with these tears no more ; 
 
 One kiss, my girl, and then adieu ! 
 The last boat destined for the shore 
 
 Waits, dearest girl, alone for you. 
 Soon, soon, before the light winds borne, 
 
 Shall I be sever'd from your sight ; 
 You left tlie lonely hours to mourn. 
 
 And weep throjgh many a stormy night 
 
 Wlien far along the restless deep. 
 
 In trim array the ship sbaii steer, 
 Your form remembrance still shall keep, 
 
 Vour worth affeetion still revere; 
 And with the distance from your eyes. 
 
 My love for you sha/I he increas'd '. 
 As to tlie pole the needle lies. 
 
 And farthest off still varies least. 
 
 While ronnd the bowl the jovial crew 
 
 Shall sing of triumphs on the ."nain, 
 My thoughts shall fondly turn to you. 
 
 Of you alofie shall be my strai:a ; 
 And when we've bow'd the leaguing foe. 
 
 Revengeful of our cou.MryS wrong. 
 Returning home, my heart shall show 
 
 No fiction graced my artless song. 
 
130 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 LOVE AND GliORY* 
 
 roung Henry was as brave a youth 
 As ever graced a martial story ; 
 
 And Jane was fair as lovely truth 
 .She sigh'd for love, and he for glory j 
 
 With her his faith he menat to plight, 
 And lold her many a gallant story, 
 
 Till war, their honest joys to blight, 
 Call'd him away from love to glory, 
 
 Brave Henry met the foe with pride, 
 Jane followed, fought,— ah ! hapless storjr. 
 
 In man's attire, by Henry's side : 
 She died for love, and he for glory ! 
 
 Dibdin. 
 
 DEAR IS MY LITTLE NATIVE 
 VALE. 
 
 Dear is my little native vale ! 
 
 The ring-dove builds and waroles there } 
 Close by ray cot she tells tier tale 
 
 To every passing villager ; 
 The squirrel leaps from tree to tree, 
 And shells his nuts at liberty 
 
 In Grange groves an ^ myrtle bowers. 
 
 That brethe a gale of fragrance round, 
 I charm the fairy-footed hours 
 
 With my loved lutes romantic sound ; 
 Oi crowns of living laure a weave^ 
 For those that win the race at eve. 
 
VOCAL LYilB 31 
 
 Tlie shepncrd's horn at Urehk of day. 
 The ballet dmc.e in twilight glade, 
 
 The canzonet and roundelay, 
 
 Sung in the silent greenwood shade, 
 These sin^ple ]oys that never fail, 
 Shall bind me to my native vale. 
 
 Rogers, 
 
 THE TflRASHER. 
 
 Can any king be half so great 
 
 So kind, so good as I ? 
 I gave the hnngry food to eat, 
 
 And liquor to the dry, 
 My labour's hard, but still 'tis sweet, 
 
 And easy to endure , 
 For, while I toil to thresh the wheat, 
 1 comfort rich and poor : 
 And I merrily sing, as I swing round the flail, 
 My reward, wiien work's over, a mug of browD 
 ale. 
 
 If from the wheat the bread is born, 
 
 Our miseries to cheer 
 •Tis merry Sir John Barleycorn, 
 
 Supplies us with his beer ; 
 Besides, while thus I thresh the corn, 
 
 Our pleasure lo ensure. 
 I for my neighbours' good was born 
 
 A baker and a brewer ; 
 G 
 
132 VCCALLTRE. 
 
 Fori bake and I brew, as I swing round the 
 
 flail 
 To proviie them with bread, ane a mug of 
 
 brown ale. 
 
 'Tis for myself, when all is said, 
 
 work thus with such glee ; 
 For, if for others I mal^e bread, 
 
 My labour's bread to me. 
 For others' mouths I must provide, 
 
 My children must be fed ; 
 My wife, and seme sick friend beside 
 Who cannot earn his bread. 
 With these notions I merrily swing round tlve 
 
 flail 
 My reward, when work s over, a mug of brown 
 alt. 
 
 And when my mortal race is near tun 
 
 All toil and labor vain, 
 A jolly thresher shall be my son 
 
 His crazy dad maintain. 
 Thus will I work, and laugh, and sing, 
 
 And at my threshing toil, 
 Unless I'm call'd on by my king 
 To guard my native soil . 
 Then, accustom'd to threshing, I'U swing round 
 
 the flai., 
 And thresh the proud foe, for a mug of browrv 
 ale. 
 
VOCALLY III*. 133 
 
 A. tl^^IEFTAIN TO THE HIGH- 
 LANDS. 
 
 A chieftain to the HighlancTs bound 
 
 Cries. •'Boatman do not tarry ; 
 And I'll give thee a siWer pound 
 
 To low me o'er the ferry. " 
 
 " Now, who be ye would cross Lochgyle 
 
 Across the stormy water ?" 
 » Oh ! I'm the chief of Ulva's Isle, 
 
 And this Lord Ullin's daughter. 
 
 " And fast before her father's men, 
 
 Three days we've fled together ; 
 For should he find us in the glen, 
 
 My blood would stain the heather. 
 
 •» His horseman hard behind us ride j 
 
 Should they our steps discover, 
 Then who will cheer my bonny bride, 
 
 When they have slain her lover ?" 
 
 Out spake the hardy Highland wight, 
 
 *•' I'll go, my chief, I'm ready 
 And 'tis not for your silver bright, 
 But for your wineonie iady. 
 
 '' And by my word, the bonny bird 
 
 In danger shall not tarry ; 
 so, though the waves are raging \vhit«» 
 
 I'll row you o'er the ferry. '' 
 
 Ry thie the storm grew loud ap;ice. 
 The water-wraith was shrieking 
 
 And in the scowl of heaven, each mc« 
 Grew dark as they were speaking. 
 
134 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 But stU!, as wilder blew the wind. 
 And as the night grew drearer; 
 
 Adown the glen rode armed men, 
 Their trampling sounded nearer, 
 
 *'0h ! haste thee, haste," the lady crie8> 
 •' Thcugh tempests round us gather, 
 
 I'll meet tlie raging of the skies, 
 But not an angry father." 
 
 The boat has left a stormy land, 
 
 A stormy sea before her, 
 When, oh ! too stronp^ for h-uman hand, 
 
 The tempest gathered o'er her. 
 
 And still they row'd amidst the roar 
 
 Of waters round prevailing, 
 Lord Ullin reach'd that fatal shore, 
 
 His wrath was changed to wailing. 
 
 For. sore dismay 'd through storm and shade 
 
 His child he did discover; 
 One lovely hand she stretched for aid 
 
 And one was round her lover ! 
 
 **Come back, come back, " he cried in grief, 
 
 Across this stormy water , 
 And I'll forgive your Highland chief, 
 
 My daughter ; oh, my daughter !" 
 
 *Tis vain , the loud wave lasted the shore, 
 
 Return or aid preventing •. 
 The waters wild went o'er his child. 
 
 And he was left lamenting. 
 
 CampheK. 
 
VOCVI. LYRE. 135 
 
 LOVE IIxVS EYES. 
 
 Love's blind they say ; 
 Oh I never, nay, 
 Can wonls Love's grace impart; 
 The fancy's weak, 
 The tongue mny sperik. 
 But eyes alone the heart : 
 In one soft look wh-it language lies ! 
 O 1 yes, believe mc, Love has eyes. 
 
 Love's winged they cry ; 
 O! never, I; 
 No: pinions love to soar; 
 Deceivers rove, 
 But never Love, 
 Attacheil he moves no more, 
 Can he have wings who never flies f 
 And yes, believe me, love has eyes. 
 
 GO WHERE GliOR Y WAITSJ. 
 
 Go where glory waits thee, 
 But while fame elates thee, 
 
 Oh ! tlien reiiiemher mc. 
 When the praise thta ntieetest, 
 To thy car is sweetest, 
 
 Oh I still remember me. 
 Other arms may press ihee, 
 Dearer friends caress thee, 
 All the joys that bless ihee. 
 
 Sweeter far may be : 
 Ru^ when friends k'"'. nearfnt. 
 
i36 VOCAL LYUE. 
 
 And when joys are dearest, 
 O 1 then remember me, 
 
 When at eve thou rovest, 
 By the star thou lovest, 
 
 Oh ! then remember me ! 
 Think, when home returning, 
 Oft we've seen it burning, 
 
 Oh ! then remember me I 
 Oft as Summer closes, 
 When tliine eye reposes 
 On her lingering roses, 
 
 Once so loved by thee : 
 Think of her who wove them. 
 Her who made thee love thero 
 
 Oh ! then remember me ! 
 
 VVnen around thee lying, 
 Autumn leaves are dying. 
 
 On * then remember me , 
 And, at home, when gazing, 
 On the hearth blazing, 
 
 Oh ! still remember me ! 
 Then, should music, stealing, 
 All the soul of feeliiig, 
 To thy heart appealing 
 
 Draw one tear fro-m thee, 
 'llien let memory bring thee 
 Strains I used to sing thee, 
 
 Oh ! then rememoer me ! 
 
VOCAL LVIIE, 137 
 
 HOW STANDS THE GLASS ? 
 
 How stands the glass around J 
 For shame, ye take no care, boys ; 
 
 How stands the ghss around ? 
 
 Let mirth an.l wine abound. 
 The trumpets sound, 
 The colors they are flying, boys, 
 
 To fight, kill or wound ; 
 
 May we still be found, 
 Content with our liard fate, my boys, 
 
 On the Of lid ground. 
 
 Whv, soldiers, why, 
 Should we be melancholy, boys; 
 
 Why, soldiers, why, 
 
 Whose business 'tis lo die ? 
 
 What — sighing? fie! 
 Don't fear, drink on, be jolly, boys 5 
 
 'Tis he, you, or I, 
 
 Cold, hot, wet or dry, 
 We're always bound to foUovr, boyt. 
 
 And scorn lo fly. 
 
 'Tis 'lut in vain ^ 
 (I mren not to upbraid you, boys,; 
 
 'Tis but in vaio, 
 For soldiers to complain ; 
 
 Should next c£.mpnign 
 Send us to him who made us, boyi. 
 
 We're feee f<:om pain, 
 
 But if we remain, 
 A bottle and kind landlady 
 
 Cure all again. 
 
138 VOCAI. LYRE. 
 
 THERE WAS A MAS. 
 
 There was a man, though it's not very oora* 
 
 mon. 
 And, as people say, he was born of a woman, 
 And, if it be true, as 1 have been told, 
 He was once a mere infant, but age raade hina 
 
 old, 
 
 Derry Down. 
 
 His face was the f<klest that ever was seen. 
 His mouth stood acro:jS, 'twixt his nos« and 
 
 his chin; 
 Whenever he spoke it was then with bis voice 
 And in talkmg he always made some sort of 
 
 noise. 
 
 He'd an arm oa each side to work when he 
 
 pleased. 
 But he never work'd hard when he lived at his 
 
 ease; 
 Two legs he had to make him compleie, 
 And, what was more odd, at each end were his 
 
 fee*- 
 
 His legs, as folks say, he could move at his 
 
 will, 
 And when he was walking he never stood 
 
 still- 
 If vou were to see hJm, you'J laugh till you'd 
 
 burst, 
 iFor one leg or t'other would always be first. 
 
 And, as people say if you give him some me»< 
 Why, if he was hunftvy he surely would ««t 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 133 
 
 And when he is dry, if you give him the pot, 
 The liquor most commonly runs down his 
 throat. 
 
 If this whimsical fellow had a rivev to cross 
 If he could not get over, he'd stay where he 
 
 was; 
 He seldom or ever got off the dry ground. 
 So great was his luck that he never was 
 
 drowa'd. 
 
 Another misfortune befel this poor yeoman, 
 For when he was married his wiffe was a 
 
 woman I 
 And, if you believe me, though he was rcT:!ed 
 You may safely aver he was never with child. 
 
 And, if it be true, as I have heard tell, 
 When he was sick, he was not very well ; 
 He gave a large gasp, opened his mouth so 
 
 wide, 
 By some means or other this poor fellow died. 
 
 But the reason he died, and the cause of bis 
 
 death 
 Was, poor soul ! for the want of more breath. 
 And now he is left in the grave for to moulder, 
 Had he lived a day lon5er, he'd been a day 
 
 older. 
 
140 VOCAL LYin:. 
 
 SORROW'S A SNIVEIiLlNG BOY 
 
 Soriow's a snivelling bo)', 
 
 Corporal Caie's a bore, 
 I'm for General Joy, 
 
 His is a light-heailed corps 
 
 Sing fal de ral, Sec. 
 
 Gail}' my knapsack I slung, 
 Marching vhcre bullets flew fast, 
 
 As loud as they whistled I sung, 
 And licme I came merry at last. 
 Sing fal de ral, &c. 
 
 GILES 6CROGGIKS. 
 
 Giles Scroggins courted Molly Brcwn, 
 Fol deriddlelol, folderiddle lido; 
 
 The fairest wench in all the town, 
 Fol deriddle, lol, <S.'c. 
 
 He bought her a ring with jiosey true, 
 "If you loves I as I loves you, 
 •' No knife can cut oiix loves in two.** 
 
 But scissors cut as well as knives, 
 
 Fol deriddle lol, Sec. 
 And quite unsartin's all our lives, 
 
 Fol deriddle lol, ^c. 
 The day they were to have oeen wed, 
 Fate's scissors cut poor Giles's threailt 
 So they could not be mar-ri-ri'; 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 141 
 
 Poor Molly laid lier down to weep 
 
 Fol deriddle Icl, <S:c. 
 And cried herself quite fast asleep. 
 
 Fol deriddle lol, &c. 
 When, standing nil by the bed post, 
 A figure tall her siglit engross'd, 
 
 And it cried, I beez Ciles Scroggins' ghoit. 
 Fol dsriddle lol, &c. 
 
 The ghost it said, all solemnly, 
 Fol deriddle lol, &c. 
 
 Molly, you must go with I ! 
 Fol deriddle, lol, <L'C. 
 
 All to the grave, your love to coo], 
 She says, I am not dead 3 ou fool! 
 Says the ghost, says he, Vy, that's no rule! 
 Fol deriddle lol, fyc. 
 
 The ghost he seized hei all so grim, 
 
 Fol deriddle lol, i:c. 
 All for to go along with him, 
 
 Fol deriddle lol. See. 
 Come, come, said he, ere morning oeam, 
 
 1 von't said she, and she screamed a screarK? 
 Then she woke and found she had dre-am't » 
 
 dream. 
 
 About fol deriddle, &c 
 
 HERE'S A HEALTIIr 
 
 Here's a health to all good lasses. 
 Pledge it merrily, fill your glasses, 
 
 Let the bumper toast go round. 
 May they live a life of pleasure 
 
142 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 Without mixture, without measure, 
 For wih tl em true jo\ s are found. 
 
 GLORIOUS AP01^.L0v 
 
 Glorious Apollo from or. high beheld us. 
 
 Wandering to find a temple for his praise, 
 Sent Polyhymnia hither to shield us, 
 Whilst we ourselves suth a structure naiohl 
 raise. 
 
 Thus then combining, 
 Hands and hearts joining, 
 Sing we in harmony Apollo's praise. 
 
 Here every generous sentiment awaking. 
 
 Music inspiring unity and ]oy, 
 jf!ach social pleasure giving and partakAng, 
 Glee and good humour our hours ttr^ < 
 Thus then combining. 
 Hands and hearts joining, 
 Lons; may continue our unity and joy. 
 
 JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO. 
 
 John Anderson, my jo, John, 
 
 When we were first acquent, 
 Your locks were like the raten, 
 
 Your bonnie brow was brent ; 
 But now your brow is held, John, 
 
 Your locks are like the snaw, 
 But blessings on your frosty paw, 
 
 John Anderson, my jo 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 143 
 
 chr. Anderson, ray jo, John, 
 
 When nature first began 
 To try her cannie hand, John, 
 
 Her nias.erwork was man ! 
 And you among tlieina' John, 
 
 Sae trig from tap to toe, 
 She proved to be nae journie work, 
 
 John Anderson, my jo. 
 
 John Anderson, my jo, John, 
 
 Ye vrer' my nrst onncelt, 
 An' ye need na think it strange, John. 
 
 Tho' I ca' ye trim an' neat : 
 Tho' some folks say ye're auld, John, 
 
 1 never think ye so, 
 Bnt I think ye're aye tne same to me, 
 
 John Anderson, my jo. 
 
 John Anderson, my jo, John, 
 
 We've seen our bairns' bairns. 
 And ye^ my dear John Anderson, 
 
 I'm happy in jcur arms ; 
 And sae are ye in mine, John, 
 
 I'm sure ye'U ne'er say no, 
 Tho' the days are gane, tliat ye hae 
 
 John Anderson, my jo. 
 
 John Anderson, my jo, Jonn, 
 
 Wliat pleasure does it gie, 
 To see sae mony sjnouls, John, 
 
 Spring up 'tween you and me. 
 And ilka lad and lass, John, 
 
 In our footsteps to go, 
 Make perfect heaven here on eartii, 
 
 fohn Anderson, mv io. 
 
144 VOCAL LYRC. 
 
 John Andeison, iny jo, John, 
 
 Frae year to year we've pass'd. 
 And soon that year maun come, Joha, 
 
 Will bring us to our last ; 
 Bat let na ihat affright us, John, 
 
 Our hearts were ne'er our foe. 
 While in innocent delight we lived, 
 
 John Anderson, my jo. 
 
 John Anderson, my jo, John, 
 
 We clamb the hili thegitlier; 
 And mony a canty day, John, 
 
 We've had wi' ane aniiher. 
 Wow we maun totter down, John, 
 
 But hand in hand we'li go, 
 And sleep thegither at the foot, 
 
 Oho Anderson, my jo. 
 
 I'VF KLSS'D. 
 
 I've kiss'd and I've prattled with fifty fair 
 
 maids, 
 And changed them as oft, do you see.^ 
 JBut of all the gay lasses that sport oh the 
 
 green, 
 The maid of the n.ill for me. 
 
 There's fifty young men have tokl me fine 
 
 tales 
 And call'd me the fairest she. 
 Hut, of all the young men that dan.ccJ on the 
 
 green, 
 Voung Har a- s the lad for me. 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 145 
 
 H eyes are as black as the sloe in the hedge, 
 Lcr eheeks like the blossoms ia May ; 
 
 Hei teeth are as white as the new shorn Hocky 
 Iter breath like the new made h?.y. 
 
 He's tall and he's straight as the poplar tree, 
 
 His cheeks are asthe red rose. 
 He looks like a squire of high degree, 
 
 Whendress2»i in his Sunday clothe*. 
 
 WATER PARTED. 
 
 Water parted from the sea. 
 May Increase the river's tide. 
 
 To the bubbling fount may flee, 
 Or through fertile valleys glide. 
 
 Vet in search of lost repose, 
 Doom'd like me forlorn to roam ; 
 
 Still It murmurs as it flows, 
 Till it reach its native home. 
 
 THE SOLDIER TIRED. 
 The soldier, tired of war's alarms, 
 Forswears the clang of hostile arms, 
 
 And scorns the spear and shield ; 
 But if the brazen trumpet sound, 
 H« burns with conquest to he crown'd. 
 
 And dares again the field, 
 
146 VOCAL LYRE. 
 
 WHEJV VULCAN FORGED* 
 
 W^en Vulcan forged the bolts of Jove 
 
 In EtiKi's roaring glow, 
 Neptune petitioned lie might prove 
 
 Their use and power be4ow; 
 But, findiiffig in the boundless deep 
 Such thunders woukl but idly sleep, 
 He with them arm'd Britannia's hand , 
 To guard from foes lier native land. 
 
 Long may she hold the awful right, 
 And, when, through circling flame, 
 
 She darts her vengeance in the fight, 
 Jtlay justice guide her aim. 
 
 And, when assailed in future wars. 
 Her soldiers, brave and gallant tars, 
 Shall launch her fires from every hand, 
 On every foe to Britain's land. 
 
 WILL WATCH. 
 
 'Twas one morn when the wind from the 
 
 northward blew keenlj, 
 When sullenly roKred the big waves of the 
 
 mam, 
 A famed smuggler. Will Watch, kissed his Sue 
 
 then serenely 
 Took the helm and to sea boldly steered out 
 
 agam. 
 Will had promised his Sue that this trip, if we^ 
 
 ended, 
 Should coil up his hopea, and he'd anchor on 
 
 shore . 
 
VOCAL LYRE. 141 
 
 When his pockfils were lined, why his Viiv. 
 
 should he mendeiJ, 
 The laws he had broken he'd never bieuK. 
 
 more, 
 'lis sea-boat was tiim, mvie her port, tork Iilt 
 lading, 
 Then Will stoml for home, reach'd the of- 
 fing, and cried, 
 This night, if I've luck, furl the sails of my 
 trading. 
 In dock I can lay, serve a friend too besiiie. 
 Will lay too till the r.ight came on darksome 
 and dreary. 
 To crowd every sail then, he piped up eacii 
 hand. 
 But a signal soon spied, 'twas a prospect un- 
 Cheery, 
 A signal that warn'd him to bear from the 
 land. 
 The Philistines are out, cries Will, we'll laso 
 no heed on't, 
 Attack'd who's the man that will flinch fro..:i 
 his gun ? 
 should my head be blown off, I shall ne'er ieei 
 the need oa't, 
 We'll fight while we can, when we can't 
 boys, we'll run. 
 Through the haze of the night, a bright flash 
 now appearing, 
 Oh! now, cries Will Watch, the Philistinfs 
 bear down. 
 Bear a hand, my tight lads, 'ere we think aboui 
 sheering. 
 One broadsiae pour in, should we swiai, 
 boys, or drown. 
 
148 VOCVL LYRE. 
 
 But should I be popp'd off, you, mj mates, ]tSl 
 behind rae. 
 Regard my last words, see 'em kindly obey'd 
 Let no stone mark the spot, and, my friend^ 
 do yoH mind me. 
 Near the beach is ihe grave where Will 
 Watch would be laid. 
 
 P3or WiU's yarn was spun out — for a bullet 
 next minute 
 Laid him low on ihe deck, and he never 
 spoke more; 
 His bold crew fought the brig while a shot re- 
 mamed it, 
 Tlien sheered— and Will's hulk to his Susaa 
 they bore. 
 
 In tne dead of the night his last wish was 
 complied with. 
 To few known his grate, 'and to fev/ known 
 his end ; 
 He was borne to the earth by the crew thatlia 
 died with. 
 He'd the tears of his S;'.san, the prayers of 
 each friend. 
 
 Neai his grave dash the billows the winds 
 loudi-y bellow, 
 Yon ash, struck with light'nirig. points oi* 
 the cold bed, 
 Where Will Watch, the bold smuggler, that 
 famed lawless fellow, 
 Orve feared, now forgot, sleeps in pc«c© 
 with the dead. 
 
HI