She loves at last, and she shudders to see the knight on his courser bound;

But her fears were vain, for he gallops as free as though it were listed ground.

The lady hath donned her richest weeds, to greet that champion bold,

But he sits unmoved on his sable steed, and his speech is careless and cold;

'I married, last morn, a fairer bride, and, if single, would not wed thee;

I peril'd my life but to humble thy pride, and to pu nish thy cruelty!'

THE MODEL.

My friend is the man I would copy through life,
He harbours no envy, he causes no strife;
No murmurs escape him though fortune bears hard,
Content is his portion, and peace his reward.

Still happy in his station,

He minds his occupation,

Nor heeds the snares,
Nor knows the cares,

Which vice and folly bring;

Daily working wearily,

Nightly singing cheerily,

Dear to him his wife, his home, his country and his king.

His heart is enlarged, though his income is scant,
He lessens his little for others that want;

Though his children's dear claims on his industry press,

He has something to spare for the child of distress. He seeks no idle squabble,

He joins no thoughtless rabble;

To clear his way,

From day to day,

His honest views extend ;

When he speaks 'tis verily,

When he smiles 'tis merrily;

Dear to him his sport, his toil, his honour, and his friend.

How charming to find in his humble retreat,

That bliss so much sought, so unknown to the great!
The wife only anxious, her fondness to prove,

The playful endearments of infantine love.
Relaxing from his labours,
Amid his welcome neighbours,
With plain regale,

With jest and tale,

The happy hero see,

No vain schemes confounding him.

All his joys surrounding him,

Dar he holds his native land, its laws and liberty.

BRIGHT Chanticleer proclains the dawn,
And spangles deck the thorn,
The lowing herds now quit the lawn,
The lark springs from the corn:

Dogs, huntsmen, round the window throng,
Fleet Towler leads the cry,

Arise the burden of my song,

This day a stag must die.

With a hey, ho, chevy,

Hark forward, harkforward, tantivy,
Hark, hark, tantivy,

This day a stag must die.

The cordial takes its merry round,
The laugh and joke prevail,
The huntsman blows a jovial sound,
The dogs snuff up the gale;

The upland wilds they sweep along,
O'er fields, through brakes they fly,
The game is rous'd, too true the song,
This day a stag must die.

With a hey, ho, &c.

Poor stag, the dogs thy haunches gore,
The tears run down thy face,

The huntsman's pleasure is no more,
His joys were in the chase;
Alike the gen'rous sportsman burns,
To win the blooming fair,

But yet he honours each by turns,
They each become his care.

With a hey, ho, &c.

OH! THAT KISS.

ON Baltic billows rode my ship,
The boatswain loud was calling!
On mine Paulina press'd her lip,

And said, while tears were falling,
In foreign climes, O! think on this!
Your heart let naught deprave it;
But bring me back my parting kiss,
As pure as when I gave it.

Oh! that kiss, that sweet, sweet kiss!
The kiss she gave at parting;
In pain and grief, still brought relief,
And kept the tear from starting.
In breeze and battle, five long years,
I did a seaman's duty;

When pleasure call'd, I clos'd my ears,
And turn'd my eyes from beauty.
The wanton's tale of boasted bliss
I heard, but ne'er believed it,

And back I've brought that parting kiss,
As pure as I received it.

Oh! that kiss, &c.

PARODY ON "WE MET."

WE met, 'twas in a mob, and we looked at each other; He came I said to him, "That you have got another. You know I saw you come out of yonder dark alley, Along with that ere gal they call one-eyed Sally." And she wore her bridal dress,--'twas a sailor's blue jacket;

Her face, it smiled at me, how I longed for to smack it, I said that you was false, when you gave me a milling! O! thou hast been the cause of these black eyes, you

villain!

I saw him once again, with that 'ere same gal walking; She grinn'd, and so did he; how I envied their talking. My heart it burst with rage, when her smart cap I tore off.

And a piece of her black hair in triumph I bore off;
He made a rush at me to give me a smeller,

But he missed his savage aim, and fell into a cellar:
I laughed--I said to him, "You remember the milling
You last did give to me, and those black eyes, you
villain!"

SHOULD DANGER E'ER APPROACH OUR
COAST.

SHOULD danger e'er approach our coast,
The inbred spirit of the land

Would animate each heart, each hand!
Would bind us on our general host!

England, a world within itself! shall reign
Safe on our floating towers, her castles on the main
Our isle's best rampart is the sea!

The midnight march of foes it braves;

And heav'n, that fenc'd us round with waves,
Ordain'd the people to be free!

England, &c.

AS PENSIVE CHLOE.

As pensive Chloe walk'd alone,
The feather'd snow came softly down,
Like Jove descending from his bower,
To court her in a silver shower:

The wanton flakes flew to her breast,
As little birds into their nest;
But overcome with whiteness there,
For grief dissolv'd into a tear!
Thence falling on her garment's hem,
To deck her, froze into a gem.

CAPTAIN GRAY.

HE's all his agent painted him,
A captain in the line;
But his pay he spent on others,
And none has e'er been mine.
I work'd as ne'er a tailor work'd
For him without delay;
And I became a bankrupt,

Through trusting Captain Gray.
In dark blue coat all braided o'er,
In ducks of spotless white,
In bright velvet waistcoat,
He flashes out at night,
That coat was braided all by me ;
Those ducks and waistcoat gay
I made, and am a bankrupt,

Through trusting Captain Gray! I've sunk beneath the bailiff's touch, I've into gaol been cast;

But my imprisonment is done,
And I'm white-washed at last.