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Or view the fruit the vineyard yields,
Or the apple's clustering bough.
There in close embowered shades
Impervious to the noontide ray,
By tinkling rills on rosy beds,
We'll love the sultry hours away.

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to land

In the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining,
May my lot no less fortunate be,

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;


Ha! where can fly my soul's true love?
Sad. I wander this lone grove;
Sighs and tears for him I shed,
Henry is from Laura fled.
Thy love to me thou didst impart,
Thy love soon won my virgin heart;
But dearest Henry, thou'st betray'd
Thy love with thy poor cottage maid.
Through the vale my grief appears,
Sighing sad, with pearly tears;
Oft thy image is my theme,
As I wander by the stream:
See, from my cheek the colour flies,
And love's sweet hope within me dies;
For oh, dear Henry, thou'st betray'd
Thy love with thy poor cottage maid.

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And blithe as the lark that each day hails th dawn,

Look forward with hope for to-morrow.

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With a porch at the door, both for shelter an shade too,

As the sunshine or rain may prevail;

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,

Nor what honours await him to-morrow.

From the bleak northern blast may my cot be completely

Secured by a neighbouring hill :

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 will I share what to-day may


And let them spread the table to-morrow.

But when I at last must throw off this frail cover ing,


Which I've worn for three score years and ten, On the brink of the grave I'll not seek to keep hovering,

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

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


May become everlasting to-morrow.

Ah! teach thy breast soft pity's throb,
And harmonise thy rugged mind;
And teach thy lip soft pity's tear,

That gem of sentiment refined.

Could thou once know the tender bliss
The sympathizing bosom knows,
When at meek sorrow's sacred touch,
Responsive sadness round it flows.

No more thy brow would wear that frown,
Thy glance no more so sternly dart,
But joys would glitter in the eye,
And peace cling gladly to the heart.


is a beam on the face of the waters may glow, When the tide runs in darkness and coldness below, o the cheek may be tinged with a warm sunny smile,

Tho' the cold heart to ruin runs darkly the while. One fatal remembrance, one sorrow that throws: ts bleak shade alike o'er our joys and our woes: o which life nothing darker or brighter can bring, or which joy has no balm, and affliction no sting. )h! that thought in the midst of enjoyment will stay,

ike a dead leafless branch in the summer's bright ray:

The beams of the warm sun play round it in vain, t may smile in its light, but it blooms not again.


One night came on a hurricane, the sea mountains rolling,

When Barney Buntline turn'd his quid, and sai to Billy Bowline,

A strong sou wester's blowing, Bill, can't you hear it roar now?

Lord help 'em! how I pities all unhappy folks on shore now.

Fool hardy chaps as lives in towns, what danger they are all in,

And now they're quaking in their beds for fear the roof should fall in,

Poor creatures! how they envies us, and wishes, I've a notion,

For our good luck, in such a storm, to be upon the ocean.

Then as to them kept out all day on business from their houses,

And late at night are coming home, to chee their wives and spouses,

While you and I upon the deck are comfortably lying,

My eyes! what tiles and chimney-pots about their heads are flying.

And often have we seamen heard how men ar killed or undone,

By overturns in carriages, and thieves, and fir in London;

We've heard what risks all landsmen run, from noblemen to tailors,

o, Bill, let us thank Providence, that you andI are sailors.

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The signal to engage shall be
A whistle and a balloo;
Be one and all but firm to me,
And conquest soon will follow.
You, Gunnel, keep the helm in hand,
Thus, thus boys, steady, steady, steady,
Till right ahead you see the land,
Then soon as we are ready,

The signal, &c.
Keep, boys, a good look out, d'ye hear,
'Tis for old England's honour;

Just as you've brought your lower tier
Broadside to bear upon her.
The signal, &c.

All hands, then, lads, the ship to clear,
Load all your guns and mortars;
Silent as death th' attack to prepare,
And, when you're all at quarters.
The signal, &c.


O, Marian, the merry, who gave you that fairing?
The lasses all envy, lads jealously view,
That true lover s kot, on your bosom too wearing
O, say, blushing Marian, who gave 'em to you?

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