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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 4lr^'^ ^4^^ 

 
 POSTHUMOUS SONGS, 
 
 ETC., 
 
 OF THE LATE 
 
 E. CHESSHYRE, ESQ. 
 
 MANCHESTER: 
 
 WILMOT HENRY JONES. MARKET-STREET. 
 
 MDCCCXXXVn.
 
 JR. 
 
 P 
 
 It is a common practice in publishing to commence 
 with a Preface, containing sundry apologies, appeals, 
 excuses, &c. delicately interwoven with fictions to 
 quality the subsequent letter-press. Such is not the 
 intention of the collector of these Songs, which were 
 never intended for the public eye, nor unkind cri- 
 ticism. 
 
 The memory of Mr. Chkshvrk is deeply imprinted 
 in the minds of a numerous circle of valued friends, 
 for whom the following were printed, as a humble 
 tribute of that esteem in which he was held while 
 living, and in proof that, although no more, he is not 
 forgotten. 
 
 Salford, August, 1837. 
 
 8S3310
 
 THE 
 
 PLEASURES OF FISHING. 
 
 I. 
 
 When genial Spring returns 
 
 Each Angler then is wishing 
 To leave dull care at home, 
 
 And longs to go a fishing. 
 Mem'ry paints the scene   • 
 
 Of joys so often tasted, 
 Regrets the lapse of time, 
 
 On Winter deemed quite wasted. 
 
 B
 
 6 POSTHUMOUS SONGS. 
 
 II. 
 
 Now Fancy lends her aid, 
 
 Delightful thoughts inspire us, 
 Anticipation warms; 
 
 Hopes of success now fire us. 
 Imagination views 
 
 The prospects, which invite us 
 In Monsal Dale once more, 
 
 To scenes which much delight us. 
 III. 
 Upon the Banhs of Wye 
 
 Once more behold the party, 
 The Toms, and Bob, and Ned,* 
 
 Four brothers, true and hearty : 
 Observe the busy ground, 
 
 Important preparation ; 
 No statesmen more profound 
 
 When studying for the nation. 
 
 * Messrs. Marriot, Hardman, HiniUey, and Author.
 
 THE PLEASURES OF FISHING. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The taper rod uncase. 
 
 So pliant, light, and long, sir. 
 Then firmly fix your wheel, 
 
 To take the trout so strong, sir, 
 Their flies they now display, 
 
 To tempt a trout or grayling ; 
 A consultation''s held, 
 
 What colour's most prevailing. 
 V. 
 Now Anglers try your skill, 
 
 YouVe sure of charming sporting ; 
 The stream is all alive, 
 
 The trout our flies are courting ; 
 Prepare the landing net, 
 
 I soon shall bring him round, sir ; 
 Fm broke, what cursed luck ! 
 I'm sure he was two pound, sir.
 
 8 POSTHUMOUS SONGS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 With science fraught, see Bob 
 
 Select a murdering feather ; 
 He dubs his flies so neat 
 
 They kill all sorts of weather ; 
 So graceful moves his rod, 
 
 The great piscator proving ; 
 His line of twelve yards long 
 
 In magic circles moving. 
 
 vn. 
 
 Ye Tyros in the art, ' 
 
 Observe, admire, and wonder, 
 Your skill "'twill much improve. 
 
 Avoiding many a blunder : 
 In three days sport its odds, 
 
 Surprising luck prevailing,   
 Friend Tom may take a trout, 
 
 And Ned, perchance, one grayling.
 
 THE PLEASURES OF FISHING. 9 
 
 VIII. 
 
 In coursing some deliglit, 
 
 The cliase, too, has its joys, sir ; 
 Some sport with dog and gun, 
 
 Some to Newmarket hie, sir : 
 We envy not such joys. 
 
 With us they ne'er can vie, sir ; 
 No pastime can compare 
 
 With that of fishing, fly, sir. 
 IX. 
 Old Greece and Rome, they say, 
 
 In arts did far excel us ; 
 In sculpture, Phidias; 
 
 In painting, great Apelles : 
 Why, let them boast their skill. 
 
 Fine arts ! 'twas all my eye, sir ; 
 The ancients never knew 
 
 The art of fishing fly, sir.
 
 10 POSTHUMOUS SONGS. 
 
 X. 
 
 Neptune and Ampliitrite 
 
 Were Anglers fam'd in story, 
 He bobb'd for sharks and whales, 
 
 She tickrd for John Dory ; 
 But had their godships known 
 
 The art of fishing fly, sir, 
 Their palates they'd regaled 
 
 With other fish to fry, sir. 
 XL 
 Bacchus boasts his bowl. 
 
 His votaries they love sipping ; 
 To Ycnus some resort, 
 
 And seek delight in clipping : , 
 Such joys none will deny. 
 
 But those are short, and cloy, sir, 
 Compared with fishing fly 
 
 Upon the Banks of Wye, sir.
 
 THE PLEASURES OF FISHING. 11 
 
 XII. 
 
 Our rods an emblem true 
 
 Just like our tempers pliant ; 
 Our flies resemble too, 
 
 Our spirits light and buoyant ; 
 Good Bottoms all allow 
 
 Through life's success to insure, sir ; 
 The MoraPs in the Stream, 
 
 To keep our Conscience pure, sir. 
 XIII. 
 In ale house snug we sit, 
 
 Town's dainties now forsaken ; 
 But air and exercise — 
 
 Can relish eggs and bacon : 
 No luscious wines we boast ; 
 
 VVhat then, while fish we slaughter 
 Our ale is nectar brewed 
 
 By the landlord's pretty daughter.
 
 12 POSTHUMOUS SONGS. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Then what are dukes or lords 
 
 To us, while laughing, joking; 
 Our cares are all dispersed 
 
 In singing, quaffing, smoking; 
 Our happiness complete 
 
 Without a strife, or wrangle ; 
 Then, Master, let us drink 
 
 "All Brothers of the Angle."
 
 THE 
 
 JOLLY ANGLERS. 
 
 'TvvAS in the month of April gay, 
 When trout begin to frisk and play, 
 Four jolly anglers long'd to try, sirs, 
 Their luck upon the lucid Wye, sirs. 
 They all set out so blythe and gay — 
 
 Fal de ral, &c.
 
 14 POSTHUMOUS SONGS. 
 
 II. 
 
 'Mongst these was Bob, with light full charged 
 You''d swear a glow worm's rump he''d gorg'd : 
 He had read Walton o'er and o'er, sir, 
 And Cotton too, and many more, sir. 
 This wight in skill surpassed them all — 
 
 Fal de ral, &c. 
 
 III. 
 
 Three tyros in the angling art 
 Besought this master to impart 
 His skill in various kinds of tackle, 
 In dubbing neat, and whipping hackle, 
 But, most of all, to cast the fly — 
 
 Tituni, titum, titum ti.
 
 THE JOLLY ANGLERS, 15 
 
 IV. 
 
 And now weVe met at Bakcwell town, 
 
 For trout so fine in great renown, 
 
 We'll spend this night in song and chat, sir, 
 
 Piscators' notes are never flat sir ; 
 
 Then, Robin, give us something droll — 
 
 Fol de rol, &c. 
 
 V. 
 
 Quoth Robin, " Sirs, I tell you true, 
 
 " 'Tis a fact 'twixt me and you ; 
 
 " I kill'd a grayling in the Wye, sir, 
 
 " It weigh'd two pounds, or else I lie, sir. 
 
 " This grayling weigh'd three pounds I say" — 
 
 Tol di rol.
 
 16 POSTHUMOUS SONGS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The wind is south, the morning grey, 
 To Bakewell meadows haste away ; 
 But first prepare your killing flies, sir. 
 Reds, browns and duns, of various dyes, sir. 
 Quoth Bob, " this is a murdering fly" — 
 
 Titum, titum ti. 
 
 VII. 
 
 And now each angler plies his skill, 
 The trout so wary to beguile ; 
 He casts his fly so light and nice, sir, 
 And fills his pannier in a trice, sir, 
 All but poor Ned ! alack a day ! — 
 
 Fal de ral, &c.
 
 THE JOLLY ANGLERS, 17 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Quoth Ned, " I've whip'd two hours or more 
 " This Bakewell stream well o'er and o'er, 
 " Without one rise, as I'm a sinner — 
 " I think 'tis time to go to dinner ; 
 " If they're not hungry, yet am I" — 
 
 Titum, titum ti. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Says Thomas, " Master, I declare 
 
 " Such luck would make a parson swear ; 
 
 " To come so far through thick and thin, sir, 
 
 " And neither taking fish nor fin, sir ; 
 
 " 'Gainst this I'll back Bolton canal !"— = 
 
 Fal de ral. 
 c
 
 18 
 
 POSTHUMOUS SONGS. 
 
 X. 
 
 At niglit so meet tlie lads survey 
 
 Their panniers fill'd -with scaly prey : 
 
 " Come, hostess, pray, and dress that fish, 
 
 (" That trout*'s a pound — a charming dish,) 
 
 *' And cook it in your good old way, 
 
 " And don't forget the sauce I pray." — 
 
 Fal de ral, &c. 
 
 XL 
 
 A dun''s a monster, so's a bum, 
 
 When latitats and warrants come ; 
 But now, in Monsal-dale, the dun, sir, 
 Affords us charming sport and fun, sir ; 
 The neat blue dun, that killing fly — 
 
 Titum, titum, ti.
 
 THE JOLLY ANGLERS, 19 
 
 XII. 
 
 But let us not forget friend Bullock,* 
 A sportsman fair who ne'er does fullock ; 
 All brothers of the angle, he, sir, 
 Receives with hospitality, sir ; 
 We'll drink his health, so pass the bowl — 
 
 Fal de ral. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Thus peaceful glides the angler's life, 
 Nor envy knows, nor hateful strife ; 
 No worldly cares his mind assail, sir, 
 He finds content in Monsal-dale, sir, 
 And gaily carols fal lal, lal, 
 
 Fal de ra], &c. 
 
 * Refers to a Gentleman who had an estate upon the Wye, and accommo- 
 dated his fishing friends at his house.
 
 20 POSTHUMOUS SONGS. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Though at our pastime folks may sneer, 
 We'll not regard their gibe or jeer ; 
 For men in science much renownM, sir, 
 Have trod the piscatorial ground, sir : 
 In angling great delight had they — 
 
 Fal de ral. 
 
 XV. 
 
 A man's a fish when ladies angle, 
 
 Their eyes like flies our hearts entangle ; 
 
 Their dubbing crisp lies you know where, sir, 
 
 It suit's cock's hackle to a hair, sir, 
 
 Red, Brown, and Black, and sometimes grey — 
 
 Fal de ral, &c.
 
 THE JOLLY ANGLERS. 21 
 
 XVI. 
 
 But let us not forget the moles, 
 On Musgrove's neck -which lay in shoals ; 
 One, two, three, four, five, six, were they, sir, 
 Like goldfish on the milky way, sir. 
 Who would not fish there night and day ? 
 
 Fal de ral, &c.
 
 THE 
 
 MISERIES OF FLY FISHING. 
 
 . I. 
 
 I HAD often heard of catching fish, 
 
 With th' artificial fly, 
 The rarest sport that e"'er was known, 
 
 Egad, thinks I, I'll try- 
 So a fishing I would go, 
 
 II. 
 
 A wambling rod of four yards long. 
 
 Just like our carter''s whip, 
 I thought should I but meet with trout, 
 
 'Tis odds I make them skip, 
 
 So a fishing, &c.
 
 THE MISERIES OF FLY FISHING. 23 
 
 III. 
 
 A little teagle then I bought, 
 
 A line sixteen yards long, 
 To hoist fish out o'th water. 
 
 When so heavy and so strong. 
 
 And a fishing, &c. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Behold me now then full equipt, 
 
 With rod, and line, and flies ; 
 My griefs you'll hear, for sport Td none, 
 
 Good faith Til tell no lies, 
 
 And a fishing, &c. 
 
 V. 
 
 The wind blew strong, full in my teeth, 
 
 I could not reach o'er th' brook ; 
 And then I found my flies and guts. 
 
 Were gather'd all in a ruck. 
 
 And a fishing, &c.
 
 24 POSTHUMOUS SONGS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 It cost me half an liour and more 
 To right this ruffled geer, 
 
 Once more I Avhip'd, and with a crack, 
 My flies flew God knows where. 
 
 And a fishing, &c. 
 
 VII. 
 
 With heavy heart and aching arm, 
 I whip't from morn till night, 
 
 Without one rise, at last Fm told 
 My colours were not right. 
 
 And a fishing, &c. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Another brood of flies I bought, 
 And then I chang*'d my plan. 
 
 Thinks I, I'm now so cunning grown, 
 I'll please 'em if I can. 
 
 And a fishing, &c.
 
 THE MISERIES OF FLY FISHING. '25 
 
 IX. 
 
 Alack a day ! a fisher's time 
 
 Is never in the nick ; 
 To-day the water is too bright, 
 
 To-morrow, 'tis too thick. 
 
 And a fishing, &c. 
 
 X. 
 
 To-day the sun is blazing hot, 
 
 Next, colder than we wish ; 
 Thinks I, the time is never right 
 
 When folks do come to fish. 
 
 And a fishing, &c. 
 
 XL 
 
 But still determined to have sport, 
 
 I hook'd — ah, Avoe is me ! — 
 A grayling, perhaps ; 'twas no such thing — 
 
 By the mass, Fd hook'd a tree ! 
 
 And a fishing, &c.
 
 26 
 
 POSTHUMOUS SONGS. 
 
 XII. 
 
 A bull I heard, with fearful roar, 
 
 I did not like his look ; 
 I could not leap o'er tli' edge, not I, 
 
 So I jumpt into th' brook ! 
 
 And a fishing, &c. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 By chance a little trout I hook'd, 
 
 Thinks I, now for a dish ; 
 My lad, he blundered, broke my line, 
 
 And away went flies and fish ! 
 
 And a fishing, &c. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 While I was busy catching fish, 
 
 A bear set up a yell ; 
 Thinks I, 'tis time for me to be off. 
 
 Or I shall be catcli'd mysel. 
 
 And a fishing, &c.
 
 THE MISERIES OF FLY FISHING. 27 
 
 XV. 
 
 Sometimes Fm up to th' knees Tth' mud, 
 
 Beside being wet to tli' skin, 
 And after fishing three long days, 
 
 The sport had to begin. 
 
 And a fishing, &c. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 I fish'd at Bakewell (Monsal-dale), 
 
 At Buxton I did dib ; 
 I might as well have stay'd at home. 
 
 And fish'd i'th' river Tib. 
 
 And a fishing, &c. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 To Wales I went — a hundred miles. 
 
 It cost me many a pound ; 
 I caught a little fish called lack, 
 
 Some fifty to the pound. 
 
 And a fishing, &c.
 
 28 POSTHUMOUS SONGS. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 The miseries of fishing fly 
 
 Tve now recounted o''er, 
 But if I do but once get home, 
 
 By the mass, Til fish no more ! 
 
 And a fishing, &c. 
 
 The incidents mentioned in this song actually occurred.
 
 BOTTOM FISHERS. 
 
 Three angler''s good, 
 In fishing mood, 
 With scheme well plan'd 
 Their tackle man'd. 
 
 They fishing go 
 Miles sixty two ; 
 At Ellesmere stop, 
 County of Shrop. 
 Cold windy weather 
 Heed not a feather ;
 
 30 POSTHUMOUS SONGS. 
 
 Placed in a punt, 
 At both ends blunt ; 
 Tied to a stake, 
 On mere or lake : 
 The clouds low'ring, 
 Rain falls pouring ; 
 Float keep eyeing, 
 No bite ! — sighing — 
 Constant watching, 
 No fish catching ; 
 Another show'r. 
 Which lasts an hour ; 
 DrenchM to the skin, 
 Thro' wool, thro' tin. 
 Don't care a pin, 
 
 Sit two hours more : — 
 Their luck deplore, 
 
 s
 
 BOTTOM FISHING. 31 
 
 Says Keeper Dick, 
 " The fish are sick ; 
 '* After much rain, 
 " Ne'er bite 'tis plain." 
 Now patience flags 
 These fishing wags ; 
 These sons of Job, 
 Ned, Jem, and Bob, 
 " Let's draw a cork, 
 This is dry work, 
 The Porter's fine, 
 'Tis time to dine ; 
 Hand out the bread 
 And cheese, good Ned. 
 By Jove ! a bite. 
 We'll stop all night." 
 Nought but the boat 
 Disturb'd the float !
 
 32 POSTHUMOUS SONGS. 
 
 Witli heavy heart 
 Prepare to part ; 
 All in the dumps 
 They quit the stumps ; 
 And from the grove 
 Begin to move. 
 Their panniers light, 
 Nay — empty quite ; 
 With many a sigh 
 They homeward hie ; 
 With many a grunt 
 They quit the punt.
 
 THE 
 
 LAWYER'S SONG 
 
 I. 
 
 You have often heard songs on the chace, 
 On beauty, and ladies so gaudy ; 
 
 On tippling Anacreon sung, 
 
 And Rochcster'^s verses were bawdy.
 
 34 POSTHUMOUS SONGS. 
 
 II. 
 
 Now let us tlie Muses invite, 
 A novel assignment to draw ; 
 
 To turn special pleaders to niglit, 
 And tip us a stave upon law : 
 
 III. 
 
 Hail Blackstone, on right and on wrong, 
 Hail Coke, an authority grave ; 
 
 Old Jacob, a word or two long, 
 And Comyn"'s digest every stave. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Let all the Reporters unite 
 In chorus to join in the lay ; 
 
 To prove all mankind in despite. 
 Are lawyers a bit in their way.
 
 THE lawyer's song. 35 
 
 Our Sovereign Lord George, tlie king, 
 In law is a great wholesale dealer ; 
 
 In latitafs, writs, and such things, 
 Of which the attorn ey''s retailer. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The merchant's a lawyer in grain ; 
 
 The lex mercatoria preaches, 
 In quantum valebat declares, 
 
 And his customer oft overreaches. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The debtor's a dabbler too, 
 When capias and alias assail ; 
 
 Damns both Richard Roc and John Doe ; 
 And then gives the sheriff leg-bail.
 
 36 POSTHUMOUS SONGS. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 In wigs too, the ladies you see, 
 
 When arriv'd at the age of sixteen ; 
 
 They study the law with great glee, 
 The lex naturalis I mean. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Vi et armis, the lover maintains, 
 A forcible entry takes place ; 
 
 To chambers she hies and retains 
 Serjeant ****** to open her case.
 
 MANCHESTER 
 
 FREE GRAMMAR SCHOOL, 
 
 I. 
 
 You have heard of brave Manchester town, 
 
 Once famous for smallwares and checks ; 
 Cotton dealers turnd, now they run down 
 
 To Liverpool ; breaking their necks. 
 There stood an old building of stone, 
 
 As big as a country church, 
 Grammar school it was call'd by the town, 
 
 And fam'd for Greek, Latin, and birch. 
 Fol de rol. &c.
 
 o8 POSTHUMOUS SONGS. 
 
 II. 
 
 Many lads from all parts in those days, 
 
 Botli sons of mechanics, and gentry ; 
 Who had heard of old Lawson's great praise 
 
 In the classics here made their first entry. 
 ''Mongst the rest, as a Manchester lad, 
 
 I was taught the eight parts of speech ; 
 What my caput refused to contain, 
 
 Harry Jackson whip't into my breech. 
 
 Fol de rol, &c, 
 
 III. 
 
 My propria quae maribus, then 
 
 Stern Jackson, severus virorum ; 
 Driird in at all points with his cane, 
 
 Till I roarM for protection divorum ! 
 " Pavi excipe pastum," I felt 
 
 As I pars'd ev'ry verb in quae genus ; 
 Argument Baculinum, he dealt 
 
 Oh ! I fancy I feel it hactenus ! 
 Fol de rol, &c.
 
 FREE GRAMMAR SCHOOL. 39 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then we construed, and pars'd, sobb'd, and cried ; 
 
 Cried, sobb'd, and we construed, and pars'd ; 
 Latin books, Avhicli I ne''er could abide ; 
 
 And encountered great Caesar at last : 
 When arriv'd at the banks of the Rhine, 
 
 To construct a great bridge, then. Oh lud ! 
 Not a scholar could construe a line, 
 
 And e'en Darby stuck fast in the mud ! 
 Tol de rol, &c. 
 
 In Terence so gay we begun, 
 
 In hopes to pass thro' it ridendo ; 
 But Jackson soon spoiPd all our fun. 
 
 Our laughter, to sorrow vertendo ! 
 Sub tegmine fagi, so cool, 
 
 I fain would have left in the lurch ; 
 The grey mare in the shape of a stool 
 
 I mounted, sub tegmine birch. 
 Fol de rol, &c.
 
 40 POSTHUMOUS SONGS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 To teacli me Greek lingo tliey thought, 
 
 But soon I put in it my 'novs ; 
 For Lawson's great wig soon found out, 
 
 I lack'd quantum sufF — voos vovs. 
 With Anacreon sure we were pleasM, 
 
 When we sipp''d of his bowls and his glasses, 
 But Homer our heads almost craz'd 
 
 With his Y\ri'Kv(p\r)iaQoir, ©aXaTcnr. 
 Fol de rol, &c. 
 
 VII. 
 
 " Come, a stick to that boy," was a call 
 
 From Lawson did often resound ; 
 Timor occupat artus of all. 
 
 When he thundered " I'll whip 'e all round." 
 'Tis true we had holiday's gay, 
 
 The saint's days the year all about ; 
 And Thursday's and Saturday's play. 
 
 And Tuesday ofttimes with a shout. 
 Fol de rol, &c.
 
 FREE GRAMMAR SCHOOL. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Once a year now we meet with great glee, 
 
 Ovid ne'er metamorphosed idem ; 
 From restraint both alike are quite free, 
 
 The masters and scholars beside e'm ; 
 Then magister, tip us your manus, 
 
 Without either grammar or rule ; 
 In bumpers of nectar bibamus, 
 
 The Manchester free Grammar School. 
 Fol de rol, &c. 
 
 41 
 
 \ 
 
 E
 
 rili: MANClIESTEli 
 
 NATURAL HISTORY MUSEUM 
 
 I. 
 
 Good gentlefolks walk in I pray, to see our raree show — oh ! 
 We've monsters of all sorts and shapes, and sizes high and 
 
 low — oh ! 
 The wise men of this fam'd town have made this grand 
 
 collection — oh ! 
 
 II. 
 
 At the bottom of these stairs stands the huge elephant — 
 
 oh ! 
 His trunk he used just as a Christian does his hand — oh ! 
 He could lire a pistol but was a bad shot, for he never 
 
 kill'd his man — oh !
 
 XATUItAL HISTORY MUSEUM. 43 
 
 III. 
 
 This phenomenon in nature is the Camelopard — oh ! 
 His stature measures upwards of a foot and three yards — 
 
 oh! 
 But tlio' his head is placM so higli, his feet they touch 
 
 the ground — oh ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 The lion is calFd the king of beasts, for his courage and 
 
 his strength — oh ! 
 His teeth and paws are like a cat's, but greater far in 
 
 length — oh ! 
 Some people say that a living dog is better than a dead 
 
 lion — oh ! 
 
 The crocodile's amphibious, he lives on landand water — oh I 
 His back is hard as iron, but his belly is somewhat softer 
 
 —oh! 
 To escape him, like a bailiff, you must sharply turn a 
 
 corner — oh I
 
 4-1 POSTHUMOUS SONGS. 
 
 VL 
 
 Admire our mummy, sucli a thing is seldom seen — oh ! 
 Some thousand years ago, it was an Egyptian queen — 
 
 oh! 
 Tlio' now 'tis dead, the learned think, that it was once 
 
 alive — oh ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 This is the beauteous zebra, which charms the ladies 
 
 all— oh I 
 He's cloth'd like any beau, with coat, waistcoat, and 
 
 smalls — oh ! 
 But he's not the only beau that's nothing but an ass — 
 
 oh! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 This grand collection is a credit to this town — oh ! 
 
 If you wish to be a member, your name I will put 
 
 down — oh ! 
 And now you're a subscriber. Til thank you for ten 
 
 pounds — oh I
 
 ACROSTIC. 
 
 F AiN would the enraptured muse attempt to trace, 
 A nd sing the praises of her every grace ; 
 N eatness, with dazzling elegance combined, 
 N ative her wit, with an accomplished mind, 
 
 Y outh, sense, and beauty, all happily are joinM. 
 
 C harms such as these must ev'ry heart ensnare ; 
 L ist one word more, for when this charming fair 
 A ttunes the lay, and strikes the quivering lyre, 
 
 Y our captive soul entranced is all on fire !
 
 LINES 
 
 ADDRESSED TO TWO LADIES WHO CHALLENGED THE AUTHOIl 
 TO GIVE THEM A SALUTE. 
 
 When Apollo pursued the fair Daphne so coy, 
 
 She fled at full speed from the amorous boy ; 
 
 Tho' he flatter'd her charms, prais'd her form, and her face, 
 
 In a tree she evaded his eager embrace. 
 
 Thus a god in full speed not one could subdue, 
 
 Whilst I in a corner have captured two ! 
 
 For the nymphs I pursue are not quite so icy. 
 
 And triumphant I sing veni, vidi, vici. 
 
 Your challenge ye fair, no brave man can refuse ; 
 
 ni throw down the gauntlet whenever you choose.
 
 A VALENTINE. 
 
 I. 
 
 The rose which paints Maria's check- 
 She, sighing, cries — grows faint : — - 
 
 This horrid town ! in but a week, 
 I fade — 'twould vex a saint, 
 
 II. 
 
 To-morrow is St. Valentine, 
 Maria, whilst you're mellow ; 
 
 Your lovely snowy arms entwine, 
 About some honest fellow. 
 
 
 tv-„,
 
 48 POSTHUMOUS SONGS, &C. 
 
 III. 
 
 The tender ivy ill betides, 
 Unless some prop is nigli ; 
 
 But clinging round tlie oak's firm sides, 
 It rears its branches high. 
 
 IV. 
 
 To-morrow is the annual day 
 When nature 'gins to smile ; 
 
 Pray take advice, and don't say nay-;^ 
 Besides — ^'tis Bissextile ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Then throw those gentle eyes around. 
 Among your sparks — 'tis flat, 
 
 A truer fellow won't be found 
 Than honest Latitat. 
 
 W, II. JONES, PRINTEH, jianc iiestkk. 
 
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