To hunt the stag, the fox, the hare,
Fresh health these sports impart ;
Cries Jane, dear John, oh! pray forbear,
For danger wings death's dart!
Yoies! tantivy! sobo!

Dear John, cries Jane, your spirits spare,
Of tantivy, O! beware!

See gentle Jane, Aurora bright,
Her beams burst through the sky;
See, cries Jane, by that genial light,
The magic of this eye;

To chase the stag, the fox, the hare,
Should joys domestic yield?
Cries Jane, dear John, avoid the snare
That lurks in danger's field!

Yoics! tantivy! soho!

Dear John, cries Jane, if life's your care,
Of tantivy, O! beware!

Now, gentle Jane, I mount my mare,
And spurs clap to her side;

Now, cries Jane, where's the tender care
You swore to me, your bride ?
I'll chase the stag, the fox, the hare.
Though death in ambush hide!
Cries Jane, dear John, of Fate beware,
Lest mischief should betide!

Yo'es! tantivy! soho!

Now, John, convinced, dismounts his mare, Of tantivy, O! beware!

CUPID, BACCHUS, AND LOVE.

Vulcan, contrive me such a cup,

As Nestor used of old;

Show all thy skill to trim it up,
Damask it round with gold.

Make it so large, that filled with sack
Up to the swelling brim,
Vast toasts on the delicious lake,
Like ships at sea may swim.

Engrave no battle on his cheek,

With war I've nought to do:
I'm none of those that took Maestricht,
Nor Yarmouth leaguer knew.

Let it no names of planets tell,
Fixed stars or constellations;

For I am not Sir Sidropbel,
Nor one of his relations.

But carve thereon a spreading vine,
Then add two lovely boys;
Their limbs in amorous folds entwine,
The types of future joys.

Cupid and Bacchus my saints are;
May drink and love still reign;
With wine I wash away my care,
And then to love again.

FE AFFORDS NO JOY BUT DRINKING.

What is life? a fickle ocean!

What is joy? a transient ray I

What is love? a youthful notion !
Wine alone drives care away.

Why, then, murder time by thinking?
Fill my goblet. fill with wine?
Life affords no joy but drinking;
That alone makes man divine.

What's the bigot got by praying?
What's the advent'rous seaman's gain?
What the soldier's zeal? a saying!
Wine alone can fire the brain!

To all ills I bid defiance,

And, though mortal, prove divine;
With the gods I claim alliance:

They quaff nectar-I drink wine!

DEAR OBJECT OF DEFEATED CARE.
Dear object of defeated care,

Though now of love and life bereft!
To reconcile me with despair,

Thine image and thy tears are left.

'Tis said, with sorrow time can cope,
But that I feel can ne'er be true;
For, by the death blow of my hope,
My memory immortal grew.

THE BRITISH FLAG FLIES AT THE MAL Your slack jaw belay, if you ask Jack's opinion, Our flag 'tis to hoist to the breeze,

Or die at our guns, ere we yield the dominion We proudly possess on the seas,

ar birthright recorded in maritime story, Which against the whole world we'll maintain, and ever obey'd as the symbol of glory,

The British flag flies at the main.

ur rule to dispute, urg'd by envy and rancour, Oft navy to navy have joined,

ut promptitude ever hath prov'd our sheet anchor, And baffled their efforts combin'd.

ndignant, defiance our guns hurl'd in thunder, Their threats we returned with disdain ;

The envy at once of the world, and its wonder, The British flag flies at the main.

n vain ships and commerce Gaul's tyrant may sigh for,

For nautical aid all implore;

Dar maritime right to invade long may sigh for, And pant to invade Britain's shore:

But true to ourselves 'mid the wide world's commotion,

We bravely those rights will maintain;

and for ever the glory and pride of the ocean, The British flag flies at the main.

A HIGHLAND LADDIE HEARD OF WAR.
A Highland laddie heard of war,

Which set his heart in motion;
He heard the distant cannon roar,
He saw the smiling ocean;
Come weal, come woe,
To sea he'd go,

And left one morning early,

Loch Lomond Ben,

And the willow glen,

And Jean that loved him dearly.

He wander'd east, he wander'd south,
But joye he could not find it ;
But he found out this wholesome truth,
And had the sense to mind it.
Of a' the earth,

The bonny north,

To cherish late and early;

Loch Lomond Ben,

And the willow glen,

And Jean that lov'd him dearly.

VARIETY IN ONE.

In one thou would'st find variety,.

Cried Dick, would'st thou on wedlock fix. I rather should expect, cried I,

Variety in five or six;

But never was thy counsel light,

-so said, so done,

I'll do't my friend,

I'm noos'd for life, and Dick was right,

I find variety in one.

Her tongue has more variety

Than music's system can embrace;
She modulates through every key,
Squeaks treble and growls double bass;
Divisions, runs, and trills, and shakes,
Enough the noisy spheres to stun:
Thus, as harsh discord music makes,
I find variety in one.