« ForrigeFortsett »
Tho'small the power that fortune grant,
And few the gitts she sends us, The lordly hirelings still shall want
That freedom which defends us;
Our house is our castellum,
Each true born Briton's &c.
SITWAS near a rock within a bay,
Au ample cottage shelter'd lay,
Which overlook'd the ebbing tides. Its calm inhabitants would view
The ocean struggling with the sky,
Or when each wave ran mountains high,
Boreas in his rage,
the dark’ning clouds away That caus'd a thund'ring war to wage, A ship-wreck'd sea-boy, pale and spent
With buffeting the threat’ning waves, Straight to the peaceful cottage went,
And, bending low, for succour craves. He told his tale with feeble voice,
For he'd a heart that could not feign; The list’ning hearers all rejoice
That he was safe on land again,
The The parents and the children strove,
Who now should first his wants supply; While pity causd each heart to move,
And sympathy fill'd every eye.
The can was fill'd, the fire was made,
To cheer and dry their drenched guest,
And anxiously the boy caress'd.
And shew'd his gratitude so plain,
Resolv'd to try the sea again.
When land first appears to the crew. When safe from the toils of the perilous ocean,
In each heart thanks of gratitude spring, Feel this, and you'll have of my joy a faint no
tion, When with rapture of Nancy I sing.
You and I Nature's beauties have seen the world
over, Yet never knew which to prefer; Then why should you wonder that I am no rover, Since I see all those beauties in her?
Why Why, you'll find about ships all you've known
and been hearing, On their different bearings to bring, Though they all make their ports, they all vary
in steering, So do I when of Nancy I sing.
Could a ship round the world, wind and weather
permitting, A thousand tiines go and come back, The ocean's so spacious, 'twould never be hitting,
For leagues upon leagues, the same track; So her charms are so numerous, so various, so
clever, They produce in my mind such a string, That my tongue once let loose, I could
And vary the oftener I sing. Shall I tell you the secret? You've but to love truly,
Own a heart in the right place that's hung, And, just as the prow to the helm answers duly,
That heart will lend words to the tongue.
Then do not of my praises ring,
That taught me of Nancy to sing.
WHO has e'er been in London, that over
grown place, Has seen “ Lodgings to Let" stare him full in the
Some are good, and let dearly; while some, 'tis
well known, Are so dear, and so bad, they are best let alone.
Derry down. Will Waddle, whose temper was studious and
lonely, Hired lodgings that took single gentlemen only; But Will was so fat he appear'd like a tun; Or like two single gentlemen roll’d into one. He enter'd his rooms, and to bed he retreated, But, all the night long he felt feverd and heated: And, though heavy to weigh as a score of fat sheep, Ile was not, by any means, heavy to sleep. Next night 'twas the saine ;--and the next;—and He perspir'd like an ox; he was nervous and vex’d: Week pass'd after week; till by weekly succes.
sion, His weakly condition was past all expression. In six months his acquaintance began much to
doubt him, For his skin, “like a lady's loose gown," hung
about him; He sent for a doctor; and cry'd like a ninny, * I have lost many pounds-make me well-there's
a guinea." The doctor look'd wise:-"a slow fever," he said; Prescrib'd sudorificks—and going to bed. “ Sudorificks in bed !"-exclaim'd Will,
humbugs; “ I've enough of them there without paying for drugs."
Will kick'd out the doctor-but when ill indeed, E’en dismissing the doctor don't always succeed; So calling his host,-he said—“Sir, do you know, “ I'm the fat single gentlemau six months ago? “Lookee, landlord, I think,” argued Will with
a grin, « That with honest intentions you first took mein; “But from the first night-and to say it I'm bold “ I've been so damn'd hot that I'm sure I've
Quoth the landlord_" till now, I ne'er had a
dispute; “ I'velet lodgings ten years;—I'm a baker to boot: “In airing your sheets, Sir, my wife is no sloven; “ And your bed is immediately over my oven.” “ The Oven!!!” says Will-says the host, "Why
this passion? “ In that excellent bed died three people of
fashion“ Why so crusty, good Sir?”—“ Zounds !" cries
Will, in a taking, “ Who wouldn't be crusty, with half a year's
baking ?” Will paid for his rooms; cried the host with a sneer, “Well, I see you've been going away half a year;" “ Friend, we can't wellagree-yetno quarrel”
Will said, “For one man may die where another makes bread," Q.