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The lark's early song does to laboúr invite;

Contented we just keep the wolf from the door; And, Phæbus retiring, trip home with delight To our neat little cottage that stands on the moor.

Yon neat little cottage, &c.

Our meals are but homely, mirth sweetens our cheer;

Affection's our inmate, the guest we adore; And heart-ease and health make a palace appear Of our neat little cottage that stands on the moor.

Yon neat little cottage, &c.

THE DOWN-HILL OF LIFE.
In the down hill of life, when I find I'm declining,

May my fate no less fortunate be,
Than a snug elbow chair can afford for reclining,

And a cot that o'erlooks the wide sea;
With an ambling pad-poney, to pace o'er the lawn,

While I carol away idle sorrow,
And blythe as the lark, that each day hails the dawn,

Look forward with hope for to-morrow. With a porch at my door both for shelter and shade too,

As the sun-shine or rain may prevail;
With a small spot of ground for the use of the spade too,

And a barn for the use of the flail :
A cow for my dairy, a dog for my game,

And a purse when a friend wants to borrow,
I'll envy no nabob his riches or fame,

Or what honours may wait him to-morrow. From the bleak northern blast may my còt be completely

Secur'd by a neighbouring hill; And at night may repose steal upon me more sweetly,

By the sound of a murmuring rill;

And while peace and plenty I find at my board,

With a heart free from sickness and sorrow,
With my friends. I will share what to-day may afford,

And let them spread the table to-morrow,
And when I at last must throw off this frail cov'ring,

Which I've worn for threescore years and ten,
On the brink of the grave I'll not seek to keep hov'ring,

Nor my thread wish to spin o'er again : But my face in the glass I'll serenely survey,

And with smiles count each wrinkle and furrow, As this old worn out stuff, which is thread-bare to-day,

May become everlasting to-morrow. *

OWEN. Tho' far beyond the mountains that look so distant here, To fight his country's battles last May-day went my dear; Ah! well shall I remember, with bitter sighs, the day: Why, Owen, didst thou leave me? at home why did I stay? Ah! cruel was my father, who did my flight restrain, And I was cruel-hearted, that did at home remain: With thee, my love, contented, I'd journey far away:

Why Owen, &c.

* In this beautiful song, which requires not our feeble suffrage to establish its pretensions to universal admiration, the poet has indulged us with a grateful picture of all that can be recognised as solid happiness. When the lapse of time, and sufficient intercourse with the world, have at length convinced us that the objects of ambition are ungraspable illusions, like the worn-out traveller, (to whoin home, from this very circumstance, has become doubly dear) we turn ourselves to whence we set out, and in the lap of unsophisticated nature, enjoy all that little portion of felicity which falls to the lot of man.

To market at Langollen each morning do I go,
But how to strike a bargain no longer do I know:
My father chides at ev'ning, my mother all the day:

Why, Owen, &c.
When thinking of my Owen, my eyes with tears they fill,
And then ipy mother chides

me, because

my

wheel stands still: How can I think of spinning whilst Owen’s far away:

Why, Owen, &c.

Oh, could it please kind Heaven to shield my love from

harm, To clasp him to my bosom would ev'ry care disarm; But, ah! I fear, far distant, will be that happy day:

Why, Owen, &c.

THE BIRTH OF MAY.

When rural lads and lasses gay,
Proclaim'd the birth of rosy May;
When round the May-pole, on the green,
The rustic dancers all were seen ;
'Twas there young Jenny met my view;
Her like before I never knew :
She sung so sweet, and danc'd so gay,
Alas! she danc'd my heart away.

She sung so sweet, &c.

At eve, when cakes and ale went round,
I plac'd me next her on the ground;

With harmless mirth, and pleasing jest,
She shone more bright than all the rest.
I talk'd of love, and press’d her hand,
Ah! who could such a nymph withstand !
Well pleas'd, she heard what I could say ;
Alas! she lur'd

my
heart

away.
She sung so sweet, &c.
She often heav'd a tender sigh,
While rapture sparkled in her eye:
So winning was her face and air,
It might the coldest heart ensnare.
But when I ask'd her for my bride,
And blushing she to wed comply'd,
What youth on earth could say her nay,
Whose charms might steal all hearts away!

She sung so sweet, &c.

HAD I A HEART.

TUNE" Gramachree." Had I a heart for falsehood fram'd,

I ne'er could injure you; For tho' your tongue no promise claim'd,

Your charms would make me true.
To you no soul shall bear deceit,

No stranger offer wrong,
But friends in all the ag'd you'll meet,

And lovers in the young.

But when they learn that you have blest
Another with

your

heart, They'll bid aspiring passion rest,

And act a brother's part.

Then, lady, dread not their deceit,

Nor fear to suffer wrong;
For friends in all the ag'd you'll meet,

And lovers in the young.

THE GODS ON OLYMPUS.

TUNE" Humours of Glen.THE Gods on Olympus had lately a meeting,

When pleasure, good humour, and mirth did abound: Jove welcom'd his guests, each one courteously greeting,

And Nectar, choice Nectar, flow'd merrily round. Then Neptune, the sire of the gods thus addressing,

Cried, deign, mighty Jove, on my vot’ries to smile, And mark with thy favour, protection, and blessing,

The mansion of freedom, yon sea-compass’d isle. Jove answer'd, O Neptune, the boon you've demanded

I do freely grant to the nation you love; And ocean's empire, which long they've commanded,

Is sanction’d henceforth by the mandate of Jove; Nay, I swear by old Styx, that if French gasconaders,

To invade that island shall dare to pretendo To humble the pride of these haughty invaders,

To Nelson, brave Nelson, my thunder I'll lend.
The Despots of France, and her tyrant Directors,

May strive, by enslaving a world, to rise;
But while such sailors and soldiers are Britain's

protectors, Their vaunts she will laugh at, their threats she'll de

spise; And when next on the ocean her navy shall meet them,

Again they shall witness her valour in fight; Again she will fight them—again she'll defeat them,

For Neptune and Joye shall with Nelson unite.

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