When every man, whether wise or ninny,
Was pleased at the sight of a good old guinea:
The front of it had King George's face on,
And the back the arms and the old spade ace on;
But now the sovereigns, I
can tell
They are not worth so much in value;
And there St. George is, without a rag on,
Galloping over an ugly dragon.
Sing hey, sing ho, &c.
ALL in the downs the fleet was moor'd,
The streamers waving in the wind,
When black-ey'd Susan came on board :
"Oh! where shall I my true-love find?
Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true,
If my sweet William sails among the crew!"
'William who high upon the yard,
Rock'd with the billows to and fro,
Soon as her well-known voice he heard,
He sigh'd, and cast his eyes below:
The cords glide swiftly through his glowing hands,
And quick as lightning on the deck he stands.
So the sweet lark, high pois'd in air,
Shuts close his pinions to his breast,
If chance his mate's shrill voice he hear,
And drops at once into her nest.
The noblest captain in the British fleet,
Might envy William's lips her kisses sweet.
"O Susan, Susan, lovely dear,
My vows shall ever true remain;
Let me kiss off that falling tear,
We only part to meet again.
Change as ye list, ye winds, my heart shall be
The faithful compass that still points at thee."
"Believe not what the land-men say,
Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind,
They'll tell thee, sailors when away
In ev'ry port a mistress find:
Yes, yes; believe them when they tell thee so,
For thou art present wheresoe'er I go."
"If to fair India's coast we sail,
Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright;
Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale,
Thy skin is ivory so white:
Thus every beauteous object that I view,
Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue."
"Though battle calls me from my arms,
Let not my pretty Susan mourn;
Though cannons roar, yet safe from harms,
William shall to his dear return:
Love turns aside the balls that round me fly,
Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye."
The boatswain gave the dreadful word,
The sails their swelling bosoms spread;
No longer must she stay on board:
They kiss'd; she sigh'd; he hung his head,
Her less'ning boat unwilling rows to land,
"Adieu," she cried, and wav'd her lilly hand.
THE ANCHOR'S WEIGHED.
THE tear fell gently from her eye,
When last we parted from the shore ;
My bosom beat with many a sigh,
To think I ne'er might see her more: "Dear youth," she cried, "and canst thou haste away! My heart will break, a little moment stay ;
Alas! I cannot part with thee
The Anchor's weighed-farewell, remember me.
"Weep not my love," I trembling said,
"Doubt not a constant heart like mine,
I ne'er can meet another maid,
Whose charms can fix a heart like thine." "Go then," she cried, "but let thy constant mind Oft think on her you leave in tears behind." "Dear maid, this last embrace my pledge shall beThe Anchor's weighed-farewell, remember me."
FAREWELL! but whenever you welcome the hour
That awakens the night-song of mirth in your bower,
Then think of the friend who once welcomed it too,
And forgot his own griefs to be happy with you:
His griefs may return, not a hope may remain
Of the few that have brightened his path-way of pain,
But he ne'er will forget the bright vision that threw
Its enchantment around him, while lingering with you.
And still on that evening when pleasure fills up,
To the highest top sparkle each heart and each cup,
Where'er my path lies be it gloomy or bright,
My soul, happy friend, shall be with you that night,
Shall join in your revels, your sports, and your wiles,
And return to me beaming all o'er with your smiles!
Too blest if it tells me that 'mid the gay cheer,
Some kind voice had murmur'd "I wish he was here."
Let Fate do her worst-there are relics of joy,
Bright dreams of the past which she cannot destroy,
And which come in the night-time of sorrow and care,
To bring back the features which joy used to wear:
Long, long, be my heart with such mem'ries fill'd;
Like the vase in which roses have once been distill'd
You may break, you may ruin the vase if you will,
But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.
JOHN Anderson, my Jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonnie brow was brent!
But now your brow is bald, John,
Your locks are like the snow;
My blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson, my Jo.
John Anderson, my Jo, John,
We clamb the hill thegither,
And mony a canty day, John,
We've had with ane anither,
Now we maun totter down, John,
But hand in hand we'll go,
And sleep thegether at the foot,
John Anderson, my Jo.
WHILE THE LADS OF THE VILLAGE.
WHILE the lads of the village shall merrily ah,
Sound their tabors, I'll hand thee along;
And I say unto thee that merrily ah,
Thou and I will be first in the throng,
Just then, when the youth who last year won the dow'r,
And his mate, shall the sports have begun,
[bow'r, When the gay voice of gladness resounds from each And thou long'st from thy heart to make one.
Those joys that are harmless what mortal can blame?
'Tis my maxim that youth should be free;
And to prove that my words and my deeds are the
Believe thou shalt presently see.
I KNOW a spot where we scarce mark the flowers
That Spring scatters round her to tell us she's come;
I know a spot where the evergreen bowers
Are bright in all seasons—that dear spot is home.
I know a spot where in Winter's rough weather,
We laugh while the elements bluster and foam;
I know a spot where when thus met together,
We've smiles for all seasons-that dear spot is home.
YOUNG Love dwelt once in an humble shed,
Where roses breathing
And woodbines wreathing,
Around the lattice their tendrils spread,
As wild and sweet as the life he led.
His garden flourish'd,
For young Hope nourish'd
The infant buds with beams and show'rs;
But lips tho' blooming, must still be fed,
And not e'en love can live on flow'rs.
Alas! that Poverty's evil eye
Should e'er come hither,
Such sweets to wither!
The flowers laid down their heads to die,
And Hope fell sick as the witch drew nigh.
She came one morning,
E'er love had warning,
And rais'd the latch where the young god lay: 'O, ho!' said love, is it you? good bye;' So he op'd the window and flew away.
BELIEVE me, if all those endearing young charms,
Which I gaze on so fondly to day,
Where to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms,
Like fairy-gifts, fading away
Thou would'st still be ador'd, as this moment thou art,
Let thy loveliness fade as it will,
And around the dear ruin, each wish of
my heart,
Would entwine itself verdantly still.
It is not, while beauty and youth are thine own,
And thy cheeks unprofan'd by a tear,
That the fervour and faith of a soul can be known,
To which time will but make thee more dear!
Oh! the heart that has truly lov'd never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close,
As the sun-flower turns on her god, when he sets,
The same look which she turn'd when he rose.
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