A Place to Bie.

Where BRAMHALL ruled, where GREAT GEORGE
WALKER taught,

Where KING presided, and where MURRAY fought;
On classic ground, in station low or high-

There would I wish to live, and like to die:
There would I rest among the good and brave,
And find at last near DERRY'S WALLS-a grave.

GRAHAM.

While Britain's Sons their Freedom boast.

While Britain's sons their freedom boast-
Their King, their laws, their nation-

The yeomanry now form an host

For mutual preservation.

For with disgust at blood-stained France,
Each Briton seeks a leader,

The ploughshare shines a polished lance,

T'repel the bold invader.

Chorus.

Then rear the standard, grasp the lance,
Let's hail the great occasion-
Let's wield the scourge to punish France,'
When she attempts invasion.

Ah! who so false to nature's laws,

Would rend the strong connection,
Between the parent and her cause,

When she demands protection?

Ierne's sons the summons hear,
Inspired with worth inherent,
And, dauntless, one and all they swear,
To die or save their parent.

Say, can the discontented few,
Whose only aim is plunder,
The cause of social love subdue,

Or rend her ties asunder?

May they as noxious weeds appear,
Who choke the glebe that grows them—
Who serpent-like are fostered here,

Yet sting their parent bosom.

On fair Britannia's faithful breast,
See Royal George reposing,
While murdered Louis sinks to rest,

French cruelty exposing.

Go! drink the tears that monarchs weep
Ye regicides whose lust 'tis,
In guiltless breasts your poinards deep
T'implant, then call it justice!

Oh! may each loyal British soul,
Find freedom and protection;
By guarding one we guard the whole,
Against this French infection.

Our coasts well lined with walls of wood,
Our hearts with resolution,

In George's cause we'll shed our blood
To King and Constitution.

Burial of Sir John Moore.

Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
As his corse to the ramparts we hurried;
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot,
O'er the grave where our hero we buried.

We buried him darkly at dead of night,
The sods with our bayonets turning,
By the struggling moonbeams' misty light,
And our lanterns dimly burning.

No useless coffin enclosed his breast,

Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him, But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.

Few and short were the prayers we said,
And we spoke not a word of sorrow,
But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead,
And we bitterly thought on the morrow.

We thought as we hollowed his narrow bed,
And smoothed down his lonely pillow,

That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his
And we far away on the billow.

[head,

Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,
And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him;
But nothing he'll reck if they let him sleep on,
In the grave where a Briton has laid him.

But half of our heavy task was done,

When the clock told the hour for retiring;
And we heard by the distant and random gun,
That the foe was suddenly firing.

Slowly and sadly we laid him down,

From the field of his fame fresh and gory !
We carved not a line, we raised not a stone.
But we left him alone in his glory.

REV. C. WOLFE.

You Williamites so true.

You Williamites so true, of the Orange and the Blue, That dwell in this country all round, round, round, O may they increase, and multiply in ev'ry place, And join to keep Rebellion down, down, down. And join to keep Rebellion down.

On the 23rd of May was to have been the fatal day,
To assassinate all friends of the crown, crown, crown,
But our kingly yeomen brave our couutry then did save,
By keeping the Rebellion down, down, down.

By keeping the Rebellion down.

Oh! well may you remember, on the 4th of last November,

The birthday of William, high in renown, nown, nown, What a glorious sight was seen, that day in College.

green,

Of them that kept Rebellion down, down, down.

Of them that kept Rebellion down.

D 2

The Crops were so dismayed when our Orange displayed,

At our victory they were seen to frown, frown, fro They also stopped their ears, being much annoyed cheers,

And the band playing, " Croppies lie down," do down.

And the band playing "Croppies lie down

So fill high your glasses to him who made the Crops swing,

In villages, in cities, and in town, town, town ; Lord Camden is his name, may he shortly come agai To keep the d-d Rebellion down, down, down. To keep the d-d Rebellion down.

GRAHAM,

Mackenzie's Petition to Payne.

To Payne in a dungeon, as he sat on his throne,
Some traitors in Canada prepared a petition;
That he for his friends would Republican own,
And prefer them his favourite sons of sedition.
For this was their aim

Wherever they came,

To set all in confusion-the world in a flame,

And they begged he'd instruct them how best t

convey

Peace, freedom, and comfort from Canada away.