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The decks were clear'd, the gallant band, Of British tars each other cheering; Each kindly shook his mesmate's hand,
With hearts resolved, nor danger fearing; Ben Block turu'd pale, yet 'twas not fear, Ben thought he had beheld some fairy, When on the deck he saw appear,
In seaman's dress, his faithful Mary.
Her cheek assum'd a crimson glow,
Yet such for love her noble daring, No prayers could keep her down below,
With Ben she stay'd, all perils sharing; When cruel fate ordain'd it so,
Ere Ben had time to say how fare ye? An envious ball conveyed the blow
That clos'd in death the eyes of Mary.
Ben's arms received the falling fair,
No more for life or safety caring.
SWEET GODDESS OF THE SILVER
Near where Old Thames, in ample tide,
Where trim built wherries daily glide, And health's soft breeze is blowing; A lass resides, of beauty rare,
Fond fancy's favourite theme, Bright beauty's queen, in shape and air, Sweet goddess of the silver stream. The boatman I, one morn, by chance, I plied and rowed her over, Unthinking gazed, and in one glance," I gazed myself her lover; My feather'd oar forgot its play,
And, borne down by the stream, My boat its burthen wished to staySweet goddess of the silver stream. But beauty's not her only eharms
Good humour smiles so cheery, Expell'd all terror and alarm,
When next she grac'd my wherry; Hope whispers love may make her mine: And mortal though I seem,
The thought gives birth to bliss divine, Sweet goddess of the silver stream.
Still the lark finds repose
Tho' surrounded with thorn.
Shall e'er harbour with me.
Still in search of delight,
SWEET KITTY OF THE CLYDE. A boat danced on Clyde's bonny stream, When winds were rudely blowing, There sat what might the goddess seem, Of the waves beneath her flowing: But, no, a mortal fair was she, Surpassing a' beside :
And youths a' peered her choice to beSweet Kitty o' the Clyde.
I saw the boatman spread his sail,
But Kitty's aye a high born fair,
Nor can wi' lordly thanes compare,
I LEAVE MY HEART WITH THER. I leave my heart with thee, my love,
Though forced from thee to stray; Wi' mickle grief I onward move,
And lonely take my way.
How tedious will the hours appear,
Though fragrant wreaths my eyes invite, Thy beauty smiles around,
In roses red, in lilies white,
Thy blooming sweets are found;
For ah, my love, my only dear,
At my return, ah, may I find
I'll bring thee pelf, that rules mankind,
The vows of truth alone can cheer,
LET AMBITION FIRE THY MIND. Let ambition fire thy mind,
Thou wert born o'er men to reign, Not to follow flocks designed;
Scorn the crook and leave the plain.
Crowns I'll throw beneath thy feet;
Which way e'er thy fancy lead.
Toils of empire pleasures are;
All the joy, but not the care.
O'ER THE LAWNS.
O'er the lawns, up the hills, as with ardour we bound,
Led on by the loud sounding horn,
Kind breezes still greet us with cheerfulness crowned,
And joyful we meet the sweet morn.
Rosy health blooms around us with natural grace,
The music of the hounds when set off in full cry, Would give a more tuneful delight.
Rosy health, &c.
'Tis over, 'tis over, a pleasure divine, Fresh air and full exercise yield,