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WH

THEN angry nations rush to arms, ,

Aud dare Britannia's peace molest; While discord sounds her dire alarms,

And fills with rage each hostile breast; The gallant tar, at honour's call,

Springs forth to meet his country's foes, And fix'd to conquer or to fall,

His breast with martial ardour glows.

Behold him in the dreadful scene,

Where heroes fall to rise no more; He braves his fate with dauntless mien,

And bids the thund'ring cannons roar. No fears appal his manly mind;

Or, if perchance he heaves a sigh, 'Tis for a girl he left behind:

A sailor never fears to die.

In honour's deathless page enrolld,

Conspicuous shines the sailor's name, The guardian of his native land,

Whose bosom nobly pants for fame. On them the British fair bestow

The choicest smiles, their favours sweet, When crown'd with laurels from the foe,

They lay their wreaths at beauty's feet.

O",

II, think on my fate! once I freedom enjoy'd,

Was as happy as bappy could be, But pleasure is fleil! cven hope is destroy'd,

A captive, alas! on the sca.

I was ta’en by the foe, 'twas the fiat of fate,

To tear me from her I adore,
When thought brings to my mind my once happy

estate,
I sigh ! while 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 iny tyrants I scorn to complain,

Tears gush forth to case my full heart. I disdain e'en to shrink, tho' I feel the sharp lash;

Yet any 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 inorn was o'er-clouded 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.

TF
F deep thy poniard thou would'st drench

In blood to avenge old Blenheim's woes,
My enemies, boy, are the French,

And all who are my country's focs,

Shall

Shall I receive an added day

Of life, when crimes your name shall brand! No; never let detraction say, That virtue arm'd a murderer's hand.

If deep, &c.
Of anger, then, so single breath

Respire for my poor sakebut since
You've spirit to encounter death,
Die for your country and your prince.

If deep, &c.

TO Bachelors' Hall

we good fellows invite, To partake of the chase that makes up our

delight; We have spirits like fire, and of health such a

stock, That our pulse strikes the seconds as true as a

clock: Did you see us you'd swear, as we mount with a

grace; That Diana haddubb’dsome new gods of the clase, Hark away, hark

away, All nature looks gay, And Aurora with smiles ushers in the bright

day.

Dick Thicksct came mounted upon a fine black,
A better ficet gelding ne'er hunter did back:
Tom Trig rode a bay full of mettle and bone,
and gaily Bob Buxom rode proud on a ruan;

But

Bat the horse of all horses that rivalled the day,
Was the Squire's Neck-or-nothing, and that was

a grey.

Hark away, bark away,
While our spirits are gay,
Let us drink to the joys of the next coming

day.

Then for hounds there was Nimble, so well that

clinbs rocks;
And Cocknose, a good one for scenting a fox;
Little Plunge, like a mole, who with Ferret and

Search;
And beetle-brow'd Hawks-eye, so dead at a lurch;
Young Sly-looks, that scents the strong breeze from

the South ;
And musical Echo-well with his deep mouth.

Hark away, &c.

Our horses thus all of the very best blood,
Tis not likely you'll easily find such a stud:
And for hounds our opinions with thousands we'll

back,
That all England throughout can't produce such

a pack; Thus having describ'd you dogs, horses and crew, Away we set off, for the fox is in view.

Hark away, &c.

Sly Reynard's brought home, while the hords

sound a call, And now you're all welcome to Bachelor's Hall.

The

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The savory Sir-loin grateful smokes on the board,
And Bacehus pours wine from his favourite hoard;
Come on, then, do honour to this jovial place,
And enjoy the sweet pleasures that spring from
the chase,

Hark
away,

&c.

TOM

Tackle was noble, was true to his word:

If merit brought titles, Tom might be a lord : How gaily his bark through life's ocean would sail: Truth finish'd the riggingWhen I took my departure from Dublin's

sweet city, Aud for England's ownself through the seas I did

plough;
For three long days I was tost up and down-

Peaceful slumbering on the ocean,
Seamen fear no dangers niglı :
The winds and waves in gentle motion
Soothe them with

Oh, the bonny, bonny bells,
How I love to hear them sound:
Far and near

The lads of the village so merrily, ah! Sound the tabor, I'll hand thee along; And I say unto thee

Curtis was old Hodge's wife, For virtue none was ever such : She led so pure, so chaste a life, Hodge said

Here,

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