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My daughter Isabel and thee shall be a wedded pair, For thou art bravest of the brave, and she the fairest fair."
"For thou art bravest," &c.
And then they bound the holy knot, before Saint Mary's shrine,
That makes a paradise on earth, if hearts and hands combine;
And every lord and lady bright that were in chapel there,
Cried, "Honour'd be the bravest knight, belov'd the fairest fair."
Cried, "Honour'd be," &c.
Ben Block was a veteran of ancient renown,
The Board still neglected his merits to crown,
And the scuppers ran streaming with gore.
His biscuit he'd break, turn his quid, crack his joke
Thus year after year, in a subaltern's state,
́t happen'd he met (since his pate it was bare) The First Lord of the Admiralty, once; Honest Ben," quoth his lordship, "you've lost all your hair,
Since the last time I peep'd at your sconce." "Why, my lord," replied Ben, "it with truth may be said,
The bare poles I long have stood under; When so many young captains walk over my head, To see me quite scalp't 'twere no wonder."
TO GUARD FROM FOES MY NATIVE LAND.
Such thunders would but idly sleep,
Her soldiers brave, and gallant tars Shall launch her fires from every hand, On every foe to Britain's land.
THE ROBIN'S PETITION. When the leaves had deserted the trees, And the forests were chilly and bare;
When the brooks were beginning to freeze, And the snow waver'd fast through the air, A robin had fled from the wood,
To the snug habitations of man;
"The hips and the haws are all gone, I can find neither berry nor sloe ; The ground is as hard as a stone,
And I'm almost buried in snow. My dear little nest, once so neat,
Is now empty, and ragged, and torn ; On some tree, should I now take my seat,
I should be frozen quite fast before morn. Then throw me a morsel of bread,
Take me in by the side of your fire,
I shall die if you drive me away:
When you see me lie dead on the ground. Then pity a poor little thing,
And throw me a part of your store, I'll fly off in the first of the spring,
And never will trouble you more.”
THE OLD COMMODORE,
dds blood! what a time for a seaman to skulk Under gingerbread hatches ashore; What a d-d bad job that this batter'd old hulk Can't be rigg'd out for sea once more. But the puppies as they pass. Jocking up their squinting glass, Thus run down the old commodore; That's the old commodoreThe rum old commodoreThe gouty old commodore!-He! Why the bullets and the gout Have so knock'd his bull about, That he'll never more be fit for sea.
Here am I in distress, like a ship water-logg'd,
I am left by my crew,
What no more to be afloat? blood and fury! they lie !
I'm a seaman, and three score;
And if, as they tell me, I'm likely to die,
Gadzooks! let me not die on shore.
As to death, its all a joke,
So, at least, says the old commodore,
I'VE KISS D, &c.
I've kiss'd and I've prattled to fifty fair maids, And chang'd them as oft d'ye see;
But of all the fair maidens that dance on the green, The maid of the mill for me.
There's fifty young men have told me fine tales, And call d me the fairest she;
But of all the gay wrestlers that sport on the green Young Harry's the lad for me.
Her eyes are as black as the sloe on the hedge, Her face like the blossom in May,
Her teeth are as white as the new-shorn flock, Her breath like new made hay.
He's tall and he's straight as the poplar tree,
THE SAPLING OAK.
The sapling oak lost in the dell,