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Each girl, giv'n over, betray'd by her lover,
To hartshorn, or salts, or salt-water, may fly; But we've an elixir, will properly fix her,
If properly she'll the prescription apply. The recipe's wholesome,'tis beauty's best balsam;
For which we refuse, tho,' to pocket a fee, As gratis we give it, girls grateful receive ito
So here's to the practice of Love's beaume de vie.
FROM the east breaks the morn; The wild heath, and the mountain so high;
Shrilly ope's the staunch houud,
The steed neighs to the sound, And the floods and the valleys reply.
Our forefathers, so good,
Prov'd their greatness of blood,
Ruddy health bloom'd the face,
Age and youth urg'd the chase,
Hence of noble descent,
Hills and wilds we frequent, Where the bosom of pature's reveal'd;
Though in life's busy day
Man of man makes a prey,
With the chase in full sight,
HIQW How our mutual sensations refine!
Where is care? where is fear?
Like the winds in the rear !
Now to horse, my brave boys!
Lo! each pants for the joys That anon shall enliven the whole;
Then at eve we'll dismount,
Toils and pleasures recount, And renew the chase over the bowl.
LO, patter to lubbers and swabs, d'ye see,
'Bout danger, and fear, and the like; A tight water-boat, and good sea-room give me,
And t'ent to a little I'll strike. Though the tempest top-gallant-mast smack
smooth should smite, And shiver each splinter of wood, Clear the wreck! stow the yards! and bowse erery
thing tight! And under the reef'd foresail we'll scud. Avast! nor don't think me a milk-sop so soft,
To be taken for trifles aback; For they say there's a Providence sits up aloft,
To keep watch for the life of poor Jack! Why, I heard the good chaplain palaver one day,
About souls, heaven, mercy, and such; And, my timbers, what lingo be'd coil and belay! Why, 'twas just all as one as high Dutch.
But he said howasparrow can't founder, d'ye see,
Without orders that come down below; And niany fine things, that prov'd clearly to me
That Providence takes us in tow; For, says he, do you mind me, let stormse'er so oft
lake the top-sails of sailors aback, There's a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft,
To keep watch for the life of poor Jack!
I said to our Pol! (for, d'ye see, she would cry),
When last we weigh'd anchor for sea; What argufes suiv'ling, and piping your eye?
Why, what a dama'd fool you must be! Can't you see the world's wide, and there's room
for us all, Both for seamen and lubbess ashore! And if to old Davy I should go, dear Poll,
Why you never will hear of me more. What then? all'sa hazard-come don't be so soft;
Perhaps I may laughing come back; For, d'ye see, there's a cherub sits smiling aloft, To keep watch for the life of poor
D'ye mind me, a sailor should be ev'ry inch
All one as a piece of the ship; And with her brave the world, without off'ring
to finch, From the monent the anchor 's a-trip, As for me, in all weathers, all times, sides, and ends,
Nought's a trouble from duty that springs; For my heart is my Poll's, and my rhino's iny
friend's; And as for my life, 'tis my king's,
E'en when my time comes, ne'er believe me so
Inspirer of my song!
To thee alone belong!
Thou can'st the pow'r improve;
Care of its sting, &c.
From whence thy current streams,
And lavish darts his beams.
And all his force retains;
With that, &c.
Her beauteous bosom heaves.
O! with what nervous heat!
The stoic, prone to thought intense,
Thy softness can unbend;
And make him taste a friend.
Forgets his pensive strife;
And then, &c.
E'en beaux, those soft amphibious things,
Wrapt up in self and dress,
From sense thy pow'r confess.
That dares but deeply drink, Forgets his cue and stiff grimace; Grows free, and seems to think.
Forgets his cue, &c.
ARK! the din of distant 'war,
Ilow noble 'is the clangor!
Clad in terrific anger.
Who joins the gallant quarrel;
Though nobly mourn'd;