What made th' assembly shine?
Robin Adair.
What made the ball so fine?
Robin was there.
What, when the play was o'er,
What made my heart so sore?
Oh! it was parting with
Robin Adair.
But now thou'rt cold to me,
Robin Adair ;
But now thou'rt cold to me,
Robin Adair.
Yet him I lov'd so well,
Still in my heart shall dwell.
Oh! I can ne'er forget
Robin Adair.
DULCE DOMUM.
DEEP in a vale a cottage stood,
Oft sought by trav'llers weary,
And long it prov'd the blest abode
Of Edward and of Mary.
For her he'd chase the mountain goat,
O'er Alps and glaciers bounding;
For her the chamois he would shoot,
Dark horrors all surrounding:
But ev'ning come,
He sought his home,
While anxious, lovely woman,
She hail'd the sight,
And ev'ry night
The cottage rung,
As they sung,
Oh, dulce, dulce domum!
But soon, alas! this scene of bliss
Was chang'd to prospect dreary;
For war and honour rous'd each Swiss,
And Edward left his Mary.
To bold St. Gothard's height he rush'd,
'Gainst Gallia's foes contending;
And, by unequal numbers crush'd,
He died his land defending.
The evening come,
He sought not home,
Whilst she, distracted woman,
Grown wild with dread,
Now seeks him dead,
And hears the knell
That bids farewell
To dulce, dulce domum.
Он, think on my fate! once I freedom enjoy'd,
Was as happy as happy could be;
But pleasure is fled, even hope is destroy'd,
A captive, alas! on the sea.
I was ta'en by the foe, 'twas the fiat of Fate,
To tear me from her I adore:
When thought brings to mind my once happy estate,
I sigh, as I tug at the oar.
Hard, hard is my fate! -Oh, how galling my chain !
My life's steer'd by Misery's chart;
And tho' gainst my tyrants I scorn to complain,
Tears gush forth to ease my full heart.
I disdain ev'n to shrink, tho' I feel the sharp lash,
Yet my breast bleeds for her I adore;
While around me the unfeeling billows will dash,
I sigh, and still tug at the oar.
How Fortune deceives! I had pleasure in tow,
The port where she dwelt we'd in view;
But the wish'd nuptial morn was o'erclouded with woe,
And, dear Anna! I hurried from you.
Our shallop was boarded, and I borne away,
To behold my dear Anna no more;
But despair wastes my spirits, my form feels decay:
He sigh'd, and expir'd at the oar.
WHY, fair maid, in every feature
Are such signs of fear express'd?
Can a wand'ring wretched creature
With such terror fill thy breast?
Do my frenzied looks alarm thee?
Trust me, sweet, thy fears are vain;
Not for kingdoms would I harm thee;
Shun not, then, poor Crazy Jane.
Dost thou weep to see my anguish?
Mark me, and avoid my woe:
When men flatter, sigh, and languish,
Think them false,-I found them so.
For I lov'd, ah! so sincerely
None could ever love again;
But the youth I lov'd so dearly
Stole the wits of Crazy Jane.
Fondly my young heart receiv'd him,
Which was doom'd to love but one.
He sigh'd-he vow'd-and I believ'd him,
He was false-and I undone.
From that hour has reason never
Held her empire o'er my brain.
Henry fled with him for ever
Fled the wits of Crazy Jane.
Now forlorn and broken-hearted,
And with frenzied thoughts beset,
On that spot where last we parted,
On that spot where first we met,
Still I sing my love-lorn ditty,
Still I slowly pace the plain;
While each passer by, in pity,
Cries-God help thee, Crazy Jane!
RURAL FESTIVITY.
HASTE, ye rankling cares away,
Quickly fly, make no delay,
Mirth, from sadness set us free,
Nature smiles, and why not we?
See blythe Hebe o'er the plain,
Lightly leads her rosy train,
Whilst to us the gales convey
On their wings the rural lay.
Whilst to us, &c.
Come then, come, ye jovial few,
On this bank of vi'lets blue,
Let us sport and let us play,
Let us spend the happy day,
Let us sport and let us play,
Let us spend the happy day,
Let us sport and let us play,
Let us spend the happy day.
Now the birds in concert sing,
Now the flow'rets sweetly spring;
Round and round the lambkins play,
Frisking in the sunny ray:
Let us join the cheerful song,
Let us sport the flow'rs among ;
Let us ever happy be,
Happy, jocund, blythe and free.
Come then, come, &c.
Hark, the pipe's enchanting sound
Echoes through the groves around;
Hark, the gently falling rill
Murmurs sweetly down the hill;
Whilst the ploughman, young and
Carols o'er his native lay:
Mirth, from sadness set us free,
Nature smiles, and why not we?
Come then, come, &c.
ON AFRIC'S WIDE PLAINS.
ON Afric's wide plains, where the lions, loud roaring,
With freedom stalk forth, the vast desart exploring,
I was dragg'd from my hut, and enchain'd as a slave,
In a dark floating dungeon, upon the salt wave.
Spare a halfpenny! spare a halfpenny!
O spare a halfpenny to a poor Negro.
Toss'd on the wide main, I, all wildly despairing,
Burst my chains, rush'd on deck, with my eye-balls wide
glaring,
When the light'ning's dread flash struck the inlets of day, And its glorious bright beams shut for ever away.
The despoiler of man, then, his prospect thus losing Of gain, by my sale-not a blind bargain choosing, As my value compar'd with my keeping was light, Had me dash'd overboard in the dead of the night. Spare a halfpenny, &c.
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