Then I'd despise the imperial throne,
And statesmen's dangerous stations;
I'd be no king, I'd wear no crown,
I'd smile at conquering nations;
Might I caress, and still possess
This lass of whom I'm vogie;
For they are toys, and still look less,
Compar'd with Kath'rine Ogie.
But I fear the gods have not decreed
For me so fine a creature;
Whose beauty rare makes her exceed
All other works in nature.
Clouds of despair surround my love,
That are both dark and fogie!
Pity my case, ye powers above,
Else I die for Kath'rine Ogie.
MAJOR ANDRE'S SOLILOQUY.
RETURN, enraptur'd hours,
When Delia's heart was mine, When she with wreaths of flowers, My temples did entwine.
No jealousy nor care,
Corroded in my breast,
But visions light as air,
Presided o'er my rest.
Since I'm remov'd from state,
And bid adieu to time,
At my unhappy fate
Let Delia not repine.
But may the mighty Jove
Crown her with happiness,
This grant ye powers above,
And take my soul to bliss.
Now nightly o'er my bed,
No airy phantoms play,
No flow 'rets deck my head,
Each vernal holiday.
Far, far from the sad plain,
The cruel Delia flies,
While rack'd with jealous pain,
Her wretched Andre dies.
THE POST CAPTAIN.-By Dibdin.
WHEN Steerwell heard me first impart
Our brave commander's story,
With ardent zeal his youthful heart
Swell'd high for naval glory;
Resolv'd to gain a valiant name,
For bold adventure eager,
When first a little cabin-boy on board the Fame,
He would hold on the jigger,
While ten jolly tars with musical Joe,
Hove the anchor a-peak, singing yo, heave yo.
To hand top-gan't sails next he learn'd,
With quickness, care and spirit,
Whose generous master soon discern'd,
And priz'd his dawning merit;
He taught him soon to reef and steer,
When storms convuls'd the ocean,
Where shoals made skilful veterans fear,
Which mark'd him for promotion.
For none to the pilot e'er answer'd like he, When he gave the command, 'Hard-a-port, helm's-a-lee.'
For valor, skill and worth, renown'd,
The foe he oft defeated,
And now with fame and fortune crown'd,
Post-captain he is rated :
Who, should our injur'd country bleed,
Still boldly he'd defend her-
When blest with peace, if beauty plead,
He'll prove his heart is tender.
Unaw'd, yet mild, to high and low,
To poor and wealthy, friend or foe-
Wounded tars share his wealth,
All the fleet drink his health
Priz'd be such hearts, for aloft they must go,
Who always are ready compassion to show
To a brave conquer'd foe.
Young Damon long studied my heart to obtain, [plain,
He's the prettiest young shepherd that pipes o'er the
He tells me soft tales, and I vow they're not amiss;
I have often said no, when I long'd to say yes,
I have often said no, when I long'd to say yes.
Last Valentine's day to my cottage he came,
He brought me a Lambkin, to witness his flame;
Here, take this, he cries, you're fairer than the fleece;
I design'd to say no, but mistook, and said yes.
I design'd to say no, but mistook, and said yes.
One evening of late, as we met in the grove,
He press'd my hand hard, and a sigh breath'd his love; He tenderly ask'd me to grant him a kiss,
I design'd to say no, but mistook, and said yes,
I design'd to say no, but mistook, and said yes.
He flew into raptures no tongue can express;
Ye gods, he cried, Flora, would'st thou make me bless'd,
To church we will go for a conjugal bliss.
To prevent being teas'd, I was forc'd to say yes,
Yes-yes-
To prevent being teas'd, I was forc'd to say yes.
I never was so pleas'd with a word in my life,
I never was so happy as since I've been a wife;
Come all you young damsels, take warning by this,
You will all die old maids if you do not say yes,
You will all die old maids if you do not say yes.
THE DRUM.
COME, each gallant lad,
Who for pleasure quits care;
To the drum, drum, drum, &c.
To the drum-head with spirit repair.
Each recruiter takes his glass,
And each young soldier with his lass, While the drum beats tattoo, while, &c. Retires the sweet night to pass.
Each night gaily laid
Thus we'll merrily waste,
Till the drum, drum, drum, &c.
Till the drum tells us 'tis past.
Picquet arms at dawn now shine,
And each drum ruffles down the line; Now the drum beats reveille, now, &c. Saluting the day divine.
But hark! yonder shouts
See the standard now alarms, Now the drum, drum, drum, &c.
Now the drum beats loudly to arms, Kill'd and wounded, how they lie! Helter, skelter, see, they fly;
Now the drum beats retreat, now, &c.
We'll fire a feu de-joie.
LASSIE WITHE LINT-WHITE LOCKS.
By R. Burns.
LASSIE Wi' the lint-white locks,
Bonnie lassie, artless lassie !
Wilt thou wi' me tent the flocks,
Wilt thou be my dearie O?
Now nature cleeds the flow'ry lea,
And a' is young and sweet like thee,
O wilt thou share its joys wi' me,
And say thou'lt be my dearie Ó?
Lassie wi' the lint-white locks,
Bonnie lassie, artless lassie!
Wilt thou wi' me tent the flocks,
Wilt thou be my dearie O?
And when the welcome summer shower
Has cheer'd ilk drooping little flower,
We'll to the breathing woodbine bower,
At sultry noon, my dearie O.
Lassie wi' the lint-white locks,
Bonnie lassie, artless lassie!
Wilt thou wi' me tent the flocks,
Wilt thou be my dearie O?
When Cynthia lights wi' silver ray,
The weary shearer's homeward way,
Thro' yellow, waving fields we'll stray,
And talk of love, my dearie O.
Lassie wi' the lint-white locks,
Bonnie lassie, artless lassie!
Wilt thou wi' me tent the flocks,
Wilt thou be my dearie O?
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