Through groves of palm Fire-flies on the air are wheeling; Comes soft perfume, The distant beds of flowers revealing. O wake and live! A shadow'd bliss, the real excelling ; No longer sleep, From lattice peep, And list the tale that Love is telling. OUR country is our ship, d'ye see, And of his fortune proud is he, And lend a hand, As the common cause demands. Among ourselves, in peace, 'tis true, We fairly scold it out: But once the enemy's in view, Shake hands, we soon are friends. Till a wreck Each the common cause defends. TASTE! OH TASTE. TASTE, oh taste, this spicy wine, FLOWING HAIR: TIME has not thinn'd my flowing hair, And sing of love till I grow old. O! LIFE IS LIKE A SUMMER FLOWER. O! LIFE is like a summer flower, O love is like an April hour- O joy is but a passing ray, A gleam that cheers a winter's day, But tho' in hopeless dark despair, BRUCE'S ADDRESS. SCOTS, wha hae wi' Wallace bled! Or to glorious victory! Now's the day, and now's the hour! See the front of battle low'r ! See approach proud Edward's pow'r ! Edward! chains and slavery! Wha will be a traitor knave? Traitor coward! turn and flee. Wha for Scotland's king and law, Freedom's sword will strongly draw; Freeman stand, or freeman fa' Caledonian! on wi' me! By Oppression's woes and pains! Forward! let us do, or die! GENERAL WOLFE'S SONG. How stands the glass around? The colours they are flying, boys; May we still be found Content, with our hard fare, my boys, Why, soldiers, why Should we be melancholy, boys? Why, soldiers, why? Whose business 'tis to die. What, sighing? fie! Drink on, and let's be jolly, boys, We're always bound to follow, boys, 'Tis but in vain, (I meant not to upbraid you, boys,) For soldiers to complain; Should next campaign Send us to Him that made us, boys, But should we remain, A BEGGAR THE BEGGAR. am, and of low degree, For I'm come of a begging family; I'm lame, but when in a fighting bout, I'm hung with bags, A bag for the leg of a goose: For my oats a bag, For my groats a bag, And a bottle to hold my boose. It's now Heaven bless you for your charity, It's "my noble masters your charity !"— "Stand and deliver, or I'll knock you down!" All night-oh! a barn, a buxom lass. I'm clothed in rags, &c. ADIEU, MY NATIVE LAND, ADIEU. ADIEU, my native land, adieu! The vessel spreads her swelling sails; Perhaps I never more may view Your fertile fields, your flowery dales. Far from the faithless maid I roam; |