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Then say what pleasure can inspire
To that of coursing? sweet employ!
The brook and brake,
We then forsake,
Then sweet the born,
Across the lawn,
UNKENNEL THE HOUNDS. UNKENNEL, uncouple the hounds:
And wind the echoing horn, Hark! hark! the huntsman sounds
Tantivy to welcome the morn, To horse, to horse, and away we fly, Chevy-ho! and hark forward! for Renard must die, Unkennel, to cover he flies,
But all his cunning's in vain, Yoicks! yoicks! the huntsman cries,
Tantivy, upon him again! To parth, to earth, he would vainly try, Chevy-ho! and hark forward! for Renard must die. NAVAL SONGS.
As all its lessening turrets bluely fade,
And busy Fancy fondly lends her aid.
Recall’d and cherish'd in a foreign clime,
Its colors mellow'd not impair’d by time. True as the needle, homeward points his heart,
Through all the horrors of the stormy main; This the last wish that would with life depart,
To meet the smiles of her he loves again. When morn first faintly draws her silver line,
Or eve's gray cloud descends to drink the wave, When sea and sky in midnight darkness join,
Still, still he views the parting look she gave. Her gentle spirit, lightly hovering o'er,
Attends his little bark from pole to pole: And when the beating billows round him roar,
Whispers sweet hope to soothe his troubled soul. Cary'd is her name in many a spicy grove,
In many a plaintain-forest, waving .wide, Where dusky youths in painted plumage rove,
And giant palms o'er-arch the golden tide. But lo! at last he comes with crowded sail,
Lo! o'er the cliff what eager figures bend,
And hark! what mingled murmurs swell the gale,
In each he hears the welcome of a friend. 'Tis she, 'tis she herself! she waves her hand!
Soon is the anchor cast, the canvass furl'd; Soon through the whitening surge he springs to land,
And clasps the maid he singled from the world.
THE SAILOR AND SOLDIER. The sailor he fears not the roar of the seas,
But with courage all danger surmounts; O’er his biscuit and can he reposes at ease,
And with pleasure each action recounts. Contented, the soldier, in dreadful campaign,
Feels bless'd, 'midst the thunder of war; Nor envies the sailor, who ploughs the deep main,
Any prize—but the gain of a scar. In Liberty's cause, may the battles they've fought,
With freedom and peace be repaid; In the terrors of war may the honors they've sought
Gain them laurels that never fade.
JOE, THE MARINE.
No lad in the corps dress'd so smart;
His manliness won every heart.
And surely there never was seen
As Polly and Joe the marine.
And Joe in an instant was forced to the seas
To give the bold enemy battle.
Such slaughter few sailors have seen;
And among them poor Joe the marine. But victory, faithful to true British tars,
At length put an end to the fight,
And soon had fam’d Portsmouth in sight.
And foremost sweet Polly was seen,
Told the fate of poor Joe the marine.
Her poor head with wild frenzy fir’d, She few from the crowd, softly cried, 'my poor heart!
Clasp'd her hands, faintly sigh’d, and expir’d.
And on a smooth stone may be seen,
On Polly of Portsea, and Joe, the marine.
MAN THE BOAT, BOYS.
Careless and all that, d’ye see,
What is time or tide to me?
Providence ordains it 80;
Man the boat, boys-Yeo, heave, Yeo.
« Death to me an empty bubble,
“ I can never die but once.
Every bullet, &c.
Celebrates the falling brave;
Sleep below, in ocean's cave.
Every bullet, &c.
JACK AT THE OPERA.
She had just shaped her course to the play,
And to speak her soon stood under way; But the Haymarket I for old Drury mistook,
Like a lubber so raw and so soft, Half a George handed out, at the change did not
With many a coxcomb and Airt,
I thought ther'd been somebody hurt:
Singing out with their lanterns of jaws,
trips 'Mongst the Caffrees or wild Catahaws. What's the play, ma’am? says I, to a good natured