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 Act Directs. Ij 
 
SONGS, 
 
 P O L I T J C A L 
 
 CON V I V i A L 
 
 BY CAPTAIN MORRIS. 
 
 TWENTY-FOURTH EDITION, 
 
 LOX DON: 
 
 Printed by T, SUTTON, Britannia Street, Gray's-Inn-Lanc-llotS, 
 For R. DAVIS, Piccadilly,, 
 
 1802, 
 

 
 :\ : ::: >:; : : A 
 
 
SONGS 
 
 B Y 
 
 CAPTAIN MORRIS. 
 
 N I. 
 MY SPIRITS ARE MOUNTING. 
 
 A/f Y spirits are mounting, my heart's full of 
 
 glee, 
 
 Sweet hope like a rose on my bumper I see ; 
 My cares are all colour' d with joy as they pass, 
 And my soul is all sunshine when lit by my glass. 
 
 Fal de ral, &c. 
 
 II. 
 
 Awa,y from my view fly the world and its strife, 
 The banquet of fancy's the feast of my life, 
 All love's melting energies sink in my soul, 
 And the fountain of bliss is let loose in my bowl- 
 
 Fal de ral, &c. 
 
 8 You 
 
 M1Q2238 
 
III. 
 
 You ask why I drink, and my reason is plain, 
 To gild with bright colours life's picture again, 
 From the cold track of care my warm heart tore- 
 move, 
 And revel transported with nature and love. 
 
 Fal 'de ral, &c. 
 
 IV. 
 
 To the fairer 1 fill, to the fairer I think, 
 Mine is not a clay that grows muddy with drink; 
 The bubbles .'tba,t rise in gay colours are drest, 
 And love's the soft sediment lies at my breast. 
 
 Fal -de ral, &c. 
 
 V. 
 
 My spirits in bursts of wild sympathy start, 
 And friendship's kind current flows pure from my 
 
 heart, 
 
 And ardour so social ennobles each thought, 
 And I curse the cold maxims dame Prudence has 
 
 taught. 
 
 Fal de ral, &c. 
 
 VI. 
 
 What say soothing Gods ! when thou bring'st to 
 
 my view, 
 
 Those scenesofwildsoftnessmy bosom once knew; 
 I gaze as fond Memory's vision goes by, 
 And double the bliss, tho' the tear's in my eye. 
 
 Fal de ral, &c. 
 
 Then 
 
( 3 ) 
 
 VII. 
 
 Then give me great Gods, but a friend with my 
 
 wine, 
 Whose heart has been heated and softened like 
 
 mine, 
 
 In social effusions we'll cherish each soul, 
 And share the wild magic that lies in the bowl 
 
 Fal deral^ &c". 
 
 B 9 N'HI. 
 
( 4 ) 
 
 DRINKING SONG. 
 
 I. 
 
 the fancy -stirring bowl 
 Wakes its world of pleasure, 
 Glowing visions gild my soul, 
 
 ^\nd life's an endless treasure ; 
 Mem'ry decks my wasted heart, 
 
 Fresh with gay desires, 
 Rays divine their heat impart, 
 And kindling hope inspires. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Then who'd be grave, 
 
 When wine can save 
 The heaviest soul from sinking* 
 
 And magic grapes 
 
 Give angel shapes 
 To every girl we're drinking ? 
 
 II. 
 
 Here sweet benignity and love 
 
 Shed their influence round us, 
 Gother'd ills of life remove, 
 
 And leave us as they found us : 
 
 tho 3 
 
( .'5 ) 
 
 Tho' my head may swim, yet true, 
 
 Still to nature's feeling ? 
 Peace and beauty swim there too, 
 
 And rock me while I'm reeling. 
 
 Then who'd be grave ? 
 
 III. 
 
 On youth's soft pillow tender truth 
 
 Her pensive lesson taught me ; 
 Age soon mo'ck'd the dream of youth, 
 
 And wisdom wakM and caught me ; 
 A bargain then with love I knock't, 
 
 To hold the pleasing gipsey ; 
 When wise, to keep my bosom lock't, 
 
 But turn the key when tipsey. 
 
 Then who'd be grave J &c. 
 
 IV, 
 
 When time had swag'd my heated heart, 
 
 The grave boy, blind and simple, 
 Forgot to cool one little part, 
 
 Just flush'd by Lucy's dimples ; 
 That part's enough of beauty's type ? 
 
 To warm an honest fellow, 
 And tho' it touch me not when ripe, 
 
 It melts still while Pin mellow. 
 
 Then who'd be grave, ?&c, 
 
 Life's 
 
C 6 ) 
 
 Life's a voyage we all declare,. 
 
 With scarce a port to hide in ; 
 Perhaps it may to pride or care ; 
 
 That's not the sea I ride in : 
 Here floats my soul 'till fancy's eye 
 
 Her realms of bliss discover ; 
 Fright worlds that fair in prospecl li 
 
 To him. that's half seas over.. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Then who'd be grave, 
 
 When wine can save 
 The heaviest soul from sinking, 
 
 And magic grapes 
 
 Give angel shapes 
 To every girl we're drinking. 
 
 N 
 
( 7 ) 
 
 N'HL 
 SUNG BY THE PRINCE OF WALES 
 
 TO A 
 
 CERTAIN LADY. 
 
 Tune There* s a difference between a Beggar 
 and a Queen. 
 
 I. 
 
 nTTIERJE's a difference in Fact betwixt a promise 
 and an act, 
 
 And I'll tell you the reason why 
 An act can't betray tho' I own a promise may* 
 
 Yet I hope neither you nor L 
 
 CHORUS, 
 
 Let thy cares and thy fearsgo hang, -go h<a.TU, 
 Let thy doubts and thy sorrows drown ; 
 Give but my bosom love enough, 
 And my heart is all thine own, dear girl, 
 x And my heart is all thine .own, 
 
 II. 
 
 Tho 3 sometimes I rove, like a bee in a grove, 
 And my flights were a little too wild, 
 
 Yet I fix from this hour, on that sweet fancyflower, 
 
 That blooms on your cheek when you smile- 
 
 JLet thj cares and thy fears, &c, 
 
 This 
 
III. 
 
 This world I approve as the region of love, 
 And I care not one fig for't beside ; 
 
 The sports of the whole, the most dear to my soul, 
 Are those which the Gods doth provide. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Let thy cares and thy fears go hang, go hang, 
 Let thy doubts and. thy sorrows drown ; 
 Give but my bosom love enough, 
 And my heart is all thine own, dear girl. 
 And my heart is all thine own. 
 
 NIV. 
 
( 9 ) 
 
 N IV. 
 THE TREATY OF COMMERCE, 
 
 I. 
 
 HTROTH, Mister John Bull, you're a pretty 
 
 milch cow ! 
 
 Oh, what do you think of us Volunteers now ? 
 Sure I told you the work we kick'd up in the state, 
 Before it was finish'd would all be complate ! 
 -With my Ballinamona Ora, 
 Ballinamona Ora, 
 Ballinamona Ora, 
 The Treaty of Commerce for me ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Troth, I told you last year (if you call it to mind) 
 Whatwe left you before wewould not la ve behind ; 
 And wan'tl right now ? by hook or by crook ; 
 For all that we left you is all that we took ! 
 With my Ballinamona Ora, 
 Ballinamona Ora, 
 Ballinamona Ora, 
 The Treaty of Commerce for me ! 
 
 C But 
 
III. 
 
 But'twas deadly good-natur'd in you to lay down, 
 With the wrongs of our trade,all the rights ofyour 
 
 own ! 
 *Twas a mighty home stroke of magnanimous? 
 
 pride 
 
 To break your own backs for the thorn in our sidel 
 With my Ballinamona Ora, 
 Ballmamona Ora, 
 Ballinamona Ora, 
 The Treaty of Commerce for me ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Oh, like fools, we despair'd that our terms would 
 
 go down ! 
 
 Or such sharp propositions be sweet to theCrown ! 
 Then how pleasing to find your proud stomachs 
 
 to fall! 
 
 When we'd thrown'em up first,thatyou swallowed 
 them all! 
 
 With my Ballinamona Ora, 
 Ballinamona Ora, 
 Ballinamona Ora, 
 The Treaty of Commerce for me ! 
 
 Sure 
 
V. 
 
 Sure I hard Master Orde now relate, in his place, 
 All your bountiful gifts of superfluous grace ; 
 Jasus ! how we all star'd while he empty'd his 
 
 sconce ! 
 
 To find such a big bag of blessings at once ! 
 With my Ballinamona Ora, 
 Ballinamona Ora, 
 Ballinamona Ora, 
 The Treaty of Commerce for me ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 Oh, the brave British subject ! his looks were so 
 
 sweet, 
 When he laid down your case and your trade at 
 
 our feet ! 
 And the comments he made too, the wise little 
 
 elf, 
 
 To shew us that Britain's no friend to herself I 
 With my Ballinamona Ora, 
 Ballinamona Ora, 
 Ballinamona Ora, 
 The Treaty of Commerce for me I 
 
 C 2 Troth, 
 
VII. 
 
 Troth- it plais'd him, he said (could a Briton say 
 
 more ?) 
 That the trade of your country would shift to our 
 
 shore ; 
 
 And that England's disasters had sunk her so low, 
 The good tidings he brought us would finish the 
 blow ! 
 
 With my Ballinamona Ora, 
 Ballinamona Ora, 
 Ballinamona Ora, 
 The Treaty of Commerce for me ! 
 
 VIII, 
 
 Then, he said, 'twas contriv'd too by part of the 
 
 gift* 
 
 That without Irish linens ye cant't make a shift. 
 Troth now, ladies, and that's a good measure for 
 
 you, 
 
 When the linen comes over, the yard will come 
 too! 
 
 With my Ballinamona Ora, 
 Ballinamona Ora, 
 Ballinamona Ora, 
 The Treaty of Commerce for me ! 
 
 Now 
 
IX. 
 
 Now we took it most kind, that your ruler of state 
 (Who, they say, has no PARTS, but the parts in 
 
 his pate) 
 
 Should for female commodities open a door, 
 ,And let freely the great Irish staple come o'er! 
 With my BallinamonaOra, 
 Ballinamona Ora, 
 Ballinamona Ora, 
 The Treaty of Commerce for me ! 
 
 X. 
 
 5 T wouldTiave bother* d my head now, the words 
 
 PITT Jet fall, 
 When you gave us so much, you gave nothing at 
 
 all! 
 
 But in Dublin I hard his interpreter swear, 
 Nothing in England means every thing there ! 
 With my Ballinamona Ora, 
 Ballinamona Ora, 
 Ballinamona Ora, 
 The Treaty of Commerce for me ! 
 
 . 
 
 But 
 
XI. 
 
 But your minister says now, u We've got all we 
 
 can : 
 " The two states must be join'd on a permanent 
 
 " plan." 
 
 By my shoul, he's joiner of notable craft, 
 Who loosens all ties now to bind us more fast ! 
 With my Ballinamona Ora, 
 Ballinamona Ora, 
 Ballinamona Ora, 
 The Treaty of Commerce for me ! 
 
 XII. 
 
 And lie says when all duties and drawbacks are 
 
 paid, 
 That the navy will want what we make in our 
 
 trade, 
 Troth, she will want it all. Now he's right on 
 
 that score : 
 
 And she'll want it, God help her, for ever, and 
 more, 
 
 With my Ballinamona Ora, 
 Ballinamona Ora, 
 Ballinamona Ora, 
 The Treaty of Commerce for me I 
 
 If 
 
XHL 
 
 If you wish now to know how our cards we hare 
 
 play'd, 
 Why we took up our clubs, and we threw down 
 
 our spade : 
 
 So ye dealt us all trumps now for that very thing: 
 And so Pain became civil as well as the King* 
 
 With my Ballinamona Ora, 
 Ballinamona Ora, 
 Ballinamona Ora, 
 
 The Treaty of Commerce for me ! 
 
( 16 ) 
 
 NV. 
 BILLY'S TOO YOUNG TO DRIVE US. 
 
 I. 
 
 TF life's a rough journey, as moralists tell, 
 
 Englishmen sure make the best on't ; 
 Oh this spot of the earth they bade Liberty dwell j 
 
 Whilst Slavery holds all the rest on't ; 
 They thought the best solace for labour and care, 
 
 Was a state independent and free, Sir ; 
 And this thought, tho* a curse that no tyrant can 
 
 bear, 
 Is the blessing of you and of me. Sir. 
 
 Then while thro* this whirlabout journey we 
 
 reel, 
 We'll keep unabus'd the best blessing we 
 
 feel; 
 
 And watch ev'ry turn of the politic wheel ; 
 Billy's too young to drive us. 
 
 The 
 

 II. 
 
 The car of Britannia, we all must allow, 
 
 Is ready to crack with its load, Sir : 
 And, wanting the hand of experience, will now 
 
 Most surely break down on the road, Sir ! 
 Then must we, poor passengers, quietly wait 
 To be crushed by this mischievous spark, Sir, 
 Who drives a damn'd job in the carnage of state. 
 And got up like a thief' in the dark, Sir ? 
 Then while thro* this whirlabout journey we 
 
 reel, 
 
 We'll keepunabus'd the best blessing we feel, 
 And watch ev'ry turn of the politic wheel ; 
 Billy's too young to drive us. 
 
 
 
 III. 
 
 They say that his judgment is mellow and pure, 
 
 And his principles Virtue's own type, Sir : 
 I believe, from my soul, he's a son of a w re, 
 
 And his judgment more rotten than ripe, Sir ; 
 For all that he boasts of, what is it, in truth, 
 
 But that mad with ambition and pride, Sir ; 
 He's the vices of age for the follies of youth, 
 
 And a damn'd deal of cunning beside, Sir, 
 
 D Then 
 
Then while thro* this whirlabout journey we 
 
 reel, 
 
 We'll keep unabus'd the best blessing we feel, 
 And watch ev'ry turn of the politic wheel ; 
 Billy's too young to drive us. 
 
 TV 
 
 ' 
 
 The Squires, whose reason ne'er reaches a span, 
 
 Aie all with this prodigy struck, Sir, 
 And cry, " 'Tis a crime not to vote for a man 
 " Who's as chaste as a baby at suck, Sir !" 
 But pray, let me ask, had his virtue prevail'd, 
 What soul would to heaven come near, Sir? 
 Not one ; for the whole generation had fail'd, 
 And God's creatures had never been here, Sir. 
 Then while thro' this whirlabout journey we 
 
 reel, 
 
 We'll keep unabus'd the best blessing we feel, 
 And watch ev'ry turn of the politic wheel ; 
 Billy's too young to drive us. 
 
 
 It's 
 
V. 
 
 It's true, he's a pretty good gift of the gab, 
 And was taught by his dad on a .-tool, Sir ; 
 But tho' at a speech he's a bit of a dab, 
 
 In the state he's a bit of a tool, Sir. 
 For Billy's pure love for his country was such, 
 
 He agreed to become the cat's paw, Sir ! 
 And sits at the helnf, while it's turn'd by the touch 
 Of a reprobate fined of the law, Sir ! 
 Then while thro' this whirlabout journey we 
 
 reel, 
 
 We'll keep unabus'd the best blessing we feel, 
 And watch ev'ry turn of the politic wheel ; 
 Billy's too young to drive us. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Tho' reason united a N h and a F x, 
 
 The world of this junction complain, Sir : 
 But what's that to his, who join'd with a pox 
 
 To the cabinet pimp of the Thane, Sir ! 
 Who sold to a high-flying Jacobite gang 
 
 The credit of Chatham's great name, Sir f 
 That pleas'd we might hear the Young Puppet 
 harangue, 
 
 While J nk s n plays the old game, Sir ! 
 
 D Then 
 
( 20 ) 
 
 Then while thro' this whirlabout journey we 
 
 reel, 
 
 We'll keep unabus'd the best blessing we feel, 
 And watch ev'ry turn of the politic wheel ; 
 Billy's too young to drive us. 
 
 VII. 
 
 They say, his Jin e parts are a mighty good prop 
 
 To push up Britannia's affairs, Sir ! 
 But, we all of us know, tho' he stand at her top, 
 
 Her bottom will die in despair -, Sir ! 
 Then with Freemen, who on zjair bottom would 
 
 tread, 
 
 Here's a toast, that I'm sure must prevail, Sir ! 
 Britannia ! and May he ne'er stand at her Head 
 Who never can STAND at her T 1, Sir ! 
 Then while thro' this whirlabout journey we 
 
 reel, 
 
 We'll keep unabus'd the best blessing we feel, 
 And watch ev'ry turn of the politic wheel ; 
 Billy's too young to drive us. 
 
 N VI. 
 
N VI. 
 BILLY PITT 
 
 A N 
 
 THE FARMER. 
 
 i. 
 
 C IT down neighbours all, 
 
 And I'll tell a merry story 
 About a British Farmer 
 
 And BILLY P TT, the Tory ; 
 I had it piping hot 
 
 From Ebenezer Barber, 
 Who saiPd right from England, 
 And lies in Boston harbour. 
 
 Bow wow wow, fal lal de iddy iddy, 
 Bow wow wow. 
 
 This 
 
11. 
 
 This Billy he is calPd 
 
 Britannia's Prime Ruler y 
 Tho T he be but a puppet 
 
 That's hung out to fool her I 
 His name is a passport 
 
 To get in old sinners ; 
 So he deals the cards, that 
 
 The knaves may be winners ! 
 
 Bow wow wow, fal lal de iddy iddy, 
 Bow wow wow. 
 
 III. 
 
 He was bred up a Whig, 
 
 But with Nabobs to thrive, Sir ; 
 Who have votes in the House, 
 
 About two out of five, Sir. 
 He gave up the people, 
 
 And vow'd, to his scandal, 
 They shou'd seek for their bread 
 
 WitBbtii day-light or candle ! 
 . Bow wow wow, fal lal de iddy iddy 
 Bow wow wow. 
 
 Now 
 
IV. 
 
 Now It hap'd, to the country 
 
 He went for a blessing, 
 And from his State-Dad 
 
 To get a new lesson. 
 He went to Daddy Jenky, 
 
 By Trimmer Hal attended, 
 In such company, good lack! 
 
 How is morals must be mended! 
 Bow wow wow, fai lal de iddy iddy. 
 Bow wow wow. 
 
 V. 
 
 This Harry was always 
 
 A staunch friend to Boston ; 
 His bowels are soft, 
 
 For they yearn'd for Indostaru 
 If I had him in our township, 
 
 I'd feather him and tar him ; 
 With forty lacking one too, 
 
 I'd lam him and Fd scar him. 
 
 Bow wow wow, fallal do4ddy iddy, 
 Bowwow wow. 
 
 With 
 
C 
 
 VL 
 
 With his skin full of wine, and 
 
 His head full of state-tricks, 
 Sham reforms, commutations, 
 
 And the rest of his late tricks, 
 He came back with Harry, 
 
 Two birds of a feather ; 
 And, both drunk as pipers, 
 
 They knock' d their heads together, 
 Bow wow wow, fal lal de iddy iddy, 
 Bow wow wow. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Now so it fell out, that 
 
 This pair were benighted, 
 And drove out of the road ; 
 
 So that statesmen alighted : 
 And to get in again 
 
 Away scrambled they, Sir, 
 To find the back road 
 
 Unto the King's highway, Sir, 
 
 Bow wow wow, fal lal de iddy iddy, 
 Bow wow wow. 
 
 Lonjr 
 
VIII. 
 
 Long lost in the dark were 
 
 These lights of the nation ; 
 But stumbl'd at last 
 
 To a small habitation ; 
 To which they march' d up ; 
 
 While the fowls, in confusion, 
 Thought their lives were aim/d at 
 
 By this bold intrusion ! 
 
 Bow wow wow, fal lal de iddy iddy, 
 Bow wow wow. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The dogs bark'd, ducks quack'd, 
 
 And sore Billy baited ; 
 The wife she cry'd out, 
 
 " We be all ruinated ;" 
 Then straightway she snatch'd up 
 
 The vessel she pass'd in. 
 To pour on the head of 
 
 This darkling Philistine. 
 
 Bow wow wow, fal lal de iddy iddy, 
 Bow wow wow. 
 
 The 
 
X. 
 
 The husband awak'd, by 
 
 Her rage and her screaming, 
 And shrewdly supposing 
 
 His wife might be dreaming ; 
 To make matters short, 
 
 SnatchM his gun, in a fury, 
 And cry'd, ** Sons of Belial! 
 
 " I've got what will cure ye." 
 
 Bow wow wow, fal lal de iddy iddy, 
 Bow wow wow. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Then Billy began for 
 
 To make an oration, 
 As oft he had done 
 
 To bamboozle the nation ; 
 But Hodge cryd, " Begone, or 
 
 " I'll crack thy young crown for' t ; 
 ic Thou belong'st to a rare gang 
 
 " Of rogues, I'll be bound for't." 
 Bowwow wow, fal lalde iddy iddy, 
 Bow wow wow. 
 
 Now 
 
XII. 
 
 * Now Hodge/ quoth the wife, 
 
 ' Don't you mind his loud bantering, 
 
 * For certain he has under 
 
 4 His coat a dark lantern ; 
 
 * Shut the gate of the court ; 
 
 c If he once gets within it, 
 < He'll whip up the back stairs 
 * I'll be bound* in a minute/ 
 
 Bow wow wow, fal lal de iddy iddy, 
 
 Bow wow wow. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Then the wife she went on : 
 ' Can you go for to say now 
 
 6 Any good upon earth made thee 
 4 Take this by-way now ? 
 
 * Thou cam'st to get foot in 
 
 4 The house ; that's the plan on't ; 
 
 * And so let in thy gang, 
 
 ' For to make what they can on't. 
 Bow wow wow, fal lal de iddy iddy, 
 Bow wow w r ow r . 
 
 E 2 ' Don't 
 
XIV. 
 
 * Don't you hear how the brazen-fac'd 
 
 4 Rogue now pretends, man ? 
 4 He crept up in the dark 
 
 4 But for virtuous ends, man ? 
 
 * He says he's our friend ! 
 
 4 But its no such a thing, man, 
 4 The impudent dog would 
 4 Say so to the King, man !' 
 
 Bow wow wow, fal lal de iddy iddy, 
 
 Bow wow wow. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Then Billy perceiving 
 
 The wife in a fury, 
 And knowing his deeds would 
 
 Not stand woman's jury, 
 Felt the spirit of Jenky 
 
 A dangerous potion ; 
 And roar'd out to Harry 
 
 To speak for the motion. 
 
 Bow wow wow, fal lal de iddy iddy, 
 Bow wow wow. 
 
 Then 
 
XVI. 
 
 Then Harry slept up ; 
 
 But Hodge shrewdly supposing 
 His part was to steal. 
 
 Whilst the other was prosing. 
 Let fly at poor Billy, 
 
 And shot thro' his lac'd coat ; 
 Oh, what a pity 'twas 
 
 It did not hit his waistcoat ! 
 
 Bow wow wow, fal lal de iddy iddy ? 
 Bow wow wow. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Solid men of Boston 
 
 Make no long orations ; 
 Solid men of Boston 
 
 Banish strong potations ; 
 Solid men of Boston 
 
 Go to bed at sun -down, 
 And never lose your way, 
 
 Like the loggerheads of London. 
 
 Bow wow wow, fai lal de iddy icldy, 
 Bow wow wow. 
 
 N VIL 
 
( 
 
 N* VIL 
 THE TRIUMPH OF VENUS. 
 
 L 
 
 HPHO' Bacchus may boast of his care-killing 
 bowl, 
 
 And Folly in thought-drowning revels delight, 
 Such worship, alas ! hath no charms for the soul, 
 
 When softer devotions the senses invite. 
 
 To the aiTow of Fate, or the canker of Care, 
 His potions oblivious a balm may bestow : 
 
 But to Fancy, that feeds on the charms of the fair, 
 The death of Reflection's the birth of all Woe ! 
 
 III. 
 
 What soul that's possestof a dream so divine, 
 With riot would bid the sweet vision begone ? 
 
 For the tear that bedews Sensibility's shrrne 
 Is a drop of more worth than all Bacchus's tun. 
 
 The 
 
IV. 
 
 The tender excess that enamours the heart ' 
 To few is imparted ; to millions deny'd : ' 
 
 ? Tis the brain of the victim that tempers the dart, 
 And fools jest at that for which sages have dy'd* 
 
 V. 
 
 Each change and excess hath thro' life been my 
 
 doom 
 
 And well can I speak of its joy and its strife : 
 The bottle affords us a glimpse thro' the gleam, 
 But Love's the true sunshine that gladdens 
 our life* 
 
 VI. 
 
 Come then, rosy Venus, and spread o'er rny sight 
 The magic illusions that ravish the soul 1 
 
 Awake in my breast the soft dream of delight. 
 And drop from thy myrtle one leaf in my bowl I 
 
 The 
 
VIL 
 
 Then deep will I drink of the nectar divine t 
 Nor e'er, jolly god ! from dry banquet remove; 
 
 But each tube of my heart ever thirst for the wine 
 That's mellowM by Friendship, and sweeten' d 
 by Love. 
 
 VIIL 
 
( 33 ) 
 
 N VIII. 
 ADDRESSED TO LADY * * * , 
 
 WHO ASKED CAPTAIN MORRIS 
 
 WHAT THE PASSION OF LOVE WAS ? 
 
 U ask me, WhafsLove ? Why, that vir- 
 
 tue-fed vapour, 
 Which poets spread over our longings, like 
 
 gauze, 
 
 May do for a swain who can feed upon paper $ 
 But flesh is my diet, and blood is the cause. 
 
 II. 
 
 A delicate tendre, spun into Platonic/ 
 
 Suits the feminine fop, whom no beauties 
 
 provoke ; 
 
 But the blood of a Welchman is hot and laconic, 
 And he loves as he fights, with a word and a 
 stroke. 
 
 ,F Yet, 
 
( 34 ) 
 
 III. 
 
 Yet, I grant you, there is a sweet madness of 
 passion, 
 
 A rapturM delirium of mental delight ; 
 Tho' alas ! my dear Madam, not five in the nation, 
 
 Whose souls have an optic to view the blest 
 
 light. 
 5 
 
 But we speak not of minds of distinguish'd 
 
 seleclion, 
 
 But Love, common love, in its earthly attire, 
 Which, believe me, when dress'd in this high- 
 
 flown affe&ion, 
 
 Wears the thread-bare disguise of a bankrupt 
 desire. 
 
 / 
 
 . 
 
 For the bosom's deceit, like the spendthrift's 
 
 profusion, 
 As the substance declines rich appearances 
 
 tries ; 
 
 More gay as more weak, till this spendid delusion 
 In a pang of bright vanity dazzles and dies. 
 
 Aht 
 
(35 ) 
 
 VI. 
 
 Ah ! if in a strain of pure sentiment flowing, 
 No animal w r armth checks the eloquent tongue: 
 
 3 Tis the trick of a coxcomb to boast your undoing; 
 And pride, taste, or impotence prompts the 
 foul wrong ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 For Love, in a tumult of soft agitation, 
 
 Overcome with its ardor, bids language retire ; 
 
 And, lost in emotions of troubled sensation, 
 Still breathes the soft accent of silent desire. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Yes, the god's on the wing when a delicate demon 
 In sickly composure sits down to refine ; 
 
 For Love, like a he&ic, when weakly the stamen* 
 Still brightens the skin as the solids decline. 
 
 IX. 
 
 If such be the Love you propose in the question, 
 No doubt it's a phantom, dressM up by the 
 mind ; 
 
 And, believe me, it is not a substance to rest on, 
 But the fraud of cold bosoms andVanity's blind, 
 
 F2 But 
 

 X. 
 
 But forme, my dear Madam, a poor carnal sinner. 
 Whose love keeps no Lent, or no rhapsody 
 starve ; 
 
 With the sharp sauce of hunger I fall to my dinner. 
 And take,without scruple, what appetic carves. 
 
 XL 
 
 So, my good Lady ****, all beauty and merit. 
 You see, tho' I cloat on your face and your 
 
 mind, 
 
 The devil a grain should I feel of Love's spirit, 
 If looks did'nt warrant your shape and your 
 kind. 
 
 XII, 
 
 With this taste you, perhaps, will upbraid my vile 
 
 nature : 
 But thus stands the case, and in truth to my 
 
 theme, 
 Were my mistress the first, both in mind and in 
 
 feature, 
 6r her, and passion would fade like a dream, 
 
 As 
 
( 37 ) 
 
 XIIL 
 
 As a Poet, indeed, I've a licence for fi&ion ; 
 
 To dress in heroics the treacherous heart ; 
 But take the sad truth, and excuse the plain 
 diction, 
 
 For love moves with me in an honest er fart. 
 
 XIV, 
 
 IBut, perhaps, you may know something more of 
 the matter ; 
 
 Then deign to inform the dull soul of a brute 
 Ahint of your mind would most pleasingly flatte^ 
 
 And to hear it I'd always be willing and mute, 
 
 NIX. 
 
C 38 ) 
 
 
 N IX. 
 
 THE WESTMINSTER TRIUMPH, 
 
 I. 
 
 ILE Vi&'ry smiles on patriot worth, 
 And Wisdom shouts applause, Sir, 
 What joy to think, amidst our mirth, 
 
 We've fought in Freedom's cause. Sir ! 
 That Liberty our fathers won 
 
 Their sons have well defended ; 
 And faithfully that duty done 
 Which Heav'n for man intended. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 For Westminster's free sons have shewn, 
 When Kings misuse their station, 
 
 That Britons raised a Brunswick's throne 
 For Freedom's preservation. 
 
 See 
 
( 39 
 
 JL 
 
 See with what just, yet jealous pride, 
 
 Our fathers watch'd the Crown, Sir ! 
 Beneath their eye no King could stride 
 
 Beyond his legal bound, Sir. 
 They liv'd in loyal duty brave, 
 
 While Freedom mark'd his sway, Sir : 
 But when abus'd that pow'r they gave, 
 As quick they took away, Sir. 
 
 For Westminster's free sons have shewn, 
 
 When Kings misuse their station, 
 That Britons raised a Brunswick's throne 
 For Freedom's preservation. 
 
 III. 
 
 Look back, and see what blood hath staked 
 
 Our page in civil fight, Sir ; 
 When bold Prerogative disdained 
 
 A free-born nation's right, Sir! 
 What tears have drown'd this widow 5 d land 
 
 Ahen monarchs rul'd by will, Sir ! 
 And but for Patriot Virtue's hand, 
 
 Those tears had trieki'd still. Sir, 
 
 
 For 
 
( 40 ) 
 
 For Westminster's free sons have shewn, 
 When Kings misuse their station, 
 
 That Britons raisM a Brunswick's throne 
 For Freedom's preservation. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And now, when Britain's drooping head 
 
 Can scarce withstand its foes, Sir, 
 Shall he, whose talents kingdoms dread, 
 
 A despot frown depose, Sir? 
 Shall Britain's King the Whigs disdain, 
 
 On whom the empire rests, Sir ? 
 Or, when half s lost, shall Tories reign 
 The guardians of the rest, Sir ? 
 
 For Westminster's free sons have shewn, 
 
 When Kings misuse their station, 
 That Britons rais'd a Brunswick's throne 
 For Freedom's preservation. 
 
 Shall public good be thus betray 'd 
 In Britain's humblest hour? 
 
 A falling nation lose the aid 
 Of Wisdom's amplest pow'r I 
 
 In 
 

 In clays like these, shall fav'rites dare 
 
 To rule by court-applause, Sir? 
 And he who loves the people, bear 
 No sway in Britain's cause, Sir ? 
 
 For Westminster's free sons have shewn, 
 
 When Kings misuse their station, 
 That Britons rais'd a Brunswick's throne 
 For Freedom's preservation. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Forbid it Fate, that Freemen born 
 
 For public zeal be hated ! 
 Or bend beneath that princes scorn 
 
 Whom Freedom's voice created ! 
 For no hereditary right 
 
 To crowns enslave our vows, Sir ; 
 >Tis Freedom gives and binds 'ern tight 
 On patriot princes brows, Sir. 
 
 For Westminster's free sons have shewn, 
 
 When Kings misuse their station, 
 That Britons rais'd a Brunswick's throne 
 For Freedom's preservation. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Then be the triumph great and gay 
 That crowns our Champion's glory ! 
 
 Oh, may the blest auspicious day 
 Long live in British story ! 
 
 G Mav 
 
May endless honours grace that head 
 
 In which with partial hand, Sir, 
 Kind Heav'n a chosen light hath shed 
 To save a sinking land, Sir ! 
 
 For Westminster's free sons have 
 
 When Kings misuse their station, 
 That Britons rais'd a Brunswick's throne 
 For Freedom's preservation. 
 
 
 
( 43 ) 
 
 NX. 
 
 A NEW IRISH SONG. 
 Tune" O Lord, What can the Matter be?" 
 
 TIE easy with War ! here's a fine piece of bothet 
 
 on't, 
 
 Faith I can't make either one thing or t'other on't, 
 Devil may burn both the Father and Mother on't. 
 
 Billy's undone us by the War, 
 
 Oh, Lord ! what will the damage be ? &c. &c. 
 
 Pat, can you tell what the Devil he's driving at ? 
 What is't we're fighting for, what is't he's striving 
 
 at? 
 A foul bit of work the d n'd Tory's conniving at! 
 
 For the poor out of bread, what a fine consolation 
 
 too, 
 
 Winter at hand, and all trade in stagnation too ; 
 Nothing to swallow, but lumps of taxation too* 
 
 G % . Then y 
 
( 44 ) 
 
 Then, what are our gains, for the millions he 
 
 squanders now? [now. 
 
 Plentiful loss of brave Troops and Commanders' 
 
 Rotting like sheep, in the big bogs of Flanders 
 
 now ! 
 
 We're murder'd by thousands, arid pay for the 
 
 slaughter too, 
 
 Nothing to drink, to the a se up in water too J 
 Dutch running off, and ourselves marching after 
 
 too. 
 
 Our Fleets and our Gun Beats won't answer their 
 
 uses too, 
 
 Horse of no service for ditches and sluices too, 
 Cannon too late, and all left as the duce is too. 
 
 We're flux'd, till our life streams away from our 
 
 bowels too, 
 Drench'd so with rain, ye might scrape us with 
 
 trowels too, 
 Cattle all glander'd, and all full of rowels too. 
 
 ' 
 
 Tents we have few, since we left e'm behind us too, 
 Dogs wouldn't lie on the wet straw, they find us 
 
 too, 
 All sorts of death, by my soul they've consign'd 
 
 us too ! 
 
 Then faith with mistrust we're a little deje&ed too, 
 Prussians withdrawn, and the Dutch disaffected 
 
 too ; 
 Troops that we'erhir'd not too much respected too. 
 
 By 
 
( 45.) 
 
 By my soul, it's a sin, tho' we e'er should want 
 
 harmony, 
 
 When all fight for the Emp'ror of Germany, 
 And John Bull has promis'd to pay all the War 
 
 money. 
 
 Then you bitch'd us at home, and your word 
 
 did'nt keep my dears ; 
 Leaving brave lads to be cut up like sheep my 
 
 dears, 
 Toby sham fighting, and C -TH M asleep 
 
 my dears. 
 
 d-ert PO&H, #. '" *- 
 
 By my troth there's a damnable sin and omission 
 
 here, 
 
 Tho' it's hush'd up, it must rise in revision here, 
 Murder cries out, for a state inquisition here. 
 
 Then your cabinet calls this a war of existence now, 
 That's in plain Irish, to die at a distance, now, 
 And help the workforward, by backward, assis- 
 tance now. 
 
 Troth you've purchas'd at Toulon a slippery 
 
 station too, 
 
 Laid out our cash in a wild speculation too ; 
 And united all France, in a d ='d indignation too. 
 
 A wise figure we make, to be starv'd to help 
 
 slavery, 
 
 Fighting for others with profitless bravery ; 
 Oh, get out! you'll u.ndo a good master with 
 
 knavery. 
 
 F.ver 
 
( 46 ) 
 
 Eversafe be his throne? may no traitor^ endeavour 
 
 now, 
 
 Loyalty's cause from fair Freedom's dissever now; 
 Here's Fox and the Whig Constitution for ever 
 
 now* 
 
 Billy's undone us by War, 
 
 N XL 
 
( 47 ) 
 
 N XL 
 
 A NEW SONG, 
 Tune - BaHlnamona Qra. 
 
 CURE, Master JOHN BULL, I shan't know til! 
 I'm dead, 
 
 Where the devil j^ou're driving to, a-sc over 
 Troth, Pve watch' d you, my dear, day and night, 
 
 like a cat ; 
 And, bad luck to myself, if I kitowwhatyou're #1. 
 
 But, tire reason you waste all this blood, and this 
 
 gold, 
 
 Is a secret, they say that can never betoid: 
 To be sure, for such secrets my tongue is n't fit ; 
 For I can't keep it still, without speaking a bit, 
 
 Faith., and well I may speak now, for hark ye, 
 
 dear joy ! 
 Tho' you say, it's your Country the French would 
 
 destroy. 
 
 Since 
 
( 48 ) 
 
 Since you do \t yours elves ^ they may let it alone 
 And mine may be taken, instead of your own. 
 
 Britain's car, JOHN, I told you, would break with 
 
 foul knocks, 
 
 When ihisjob-boy <J/*JENKY'S crept up to the boy: 
 Troth, he stole there ^ to drive you the devil 
 
 known how ! 
 But no devil can tell,where he's driving you now* 
 
 You pay all, and fight all and lose all, they say: 
 Now, don't you think, JOHN, that's quite out of 
 
 the way ? 
 
 Faith, your very Allies feel so hurt on that score, 
 That they scorn to stand by you> and help any 
 
 more. 
 
 And these foreigners, too, have a whim in their 
 
 head 
 That the more they neglect ye, the more they'll 
 
 be paid : 
 Sure they say that your King, now they've left 
 
 him alone, 
 Will bribe 'em, and feed 'em, to Jig ht Tor their own. 
 
 Devil burn 'em, to say such a Heathenish thing, 
 Of a wise, decent, generous, church going King! 
 To fill foreign mouths, will he pinch from the 
 
 poor's ? 
 And tax the last scrap, for Croats andPandours? 
 
 Oh, 
 
c 49 ; 
 
 Oh, JOHN ! these connections with Goths, and with 
 
 Huns, 
 
 Was ever the curse of your isle and her sons ! 
 If you knew when you're well, you'd stand fast on 
 
 your ground, 
 And, at any one end on't, you a jface the world 
 
 round. 
 
 But to set out a tilting, and shake your weak lance 
 Against millions of men, arm'd RfcFreecloM, ia 
 
 France, 
 
 Was a twist in your head, Master BULL, d'ye see 
 Mighty strange in your nation, that made itself 
 free. 
 
 But your foes, my dear JOHN, say your brains are 
 
 of lead 
 That the fog of your island's ne'er out of your 
 
 head 
 
 That alike you misjudge of good measures or bad, 
 And are stupidly drowsy or wilfully mad ! 
 
 By my soul, JOHN, I've study'd your nature 
 
 awhile ; 
 
 And I think, when they so, they don't miss a mile ; 
 The world's wide, to be sure ; but, as intellects go, 
 You're as clumseyand bother d a beast us I know. 
 
 H Don't 
 
Don't you think it's pretty, political touch- 
 To keep shooting your gold in the damms of tfte 
 
 Dutch ? 
 Sending troops to be swamp' d, where they can't 
 
 draw their breath ? 
 And buying a load of fresh taxes with death ? 
 
 Then, your friends, who've been sucking the sap 
 
 of your skull, 
 
 Now choose to be fed on your fat, Master BULL ! 
 Oh! your whisker-mouthed Prussian's a hell of a 
 
 bite 
 And your Eagle of Austria's a damnable Kite ! 
 
 Like the Jay in the fable, all pluck you, good 
 
 JOHN ? 
 But the whole mean to shew you their tails, when 
 
 they've done. 
 Oh ! 'twill please you to see, when they all hare a 
 
 feather, 
 How they'll pushforth their wings and go off all 
 
 together. 
 
 Then comes the account, JOHN : and faith, to be 
 
 frank, 
 
 The cost is unbounded ; the credit a blank ! 
 It's a nghtFlemish bargain, where all you can claim, 
 Is a plentiful balance of 'taxes and shame. 
 
 But, 
 
But, when substance is gone, JOHN, one blessing 
 
 remains 
 
 We prize little things, and we count little gains ; 
 Thus, tho' broke down by burthens, to lighten 
 
 mishap, 
 You've ^feather or two, JOHN, tostick in your cap. 
 
 Yes! Laurels you have, JOHN, to tickle your car 
 For you've conquer'd aCorsican mountain, I hear : 
 And the Caribbee Laurels Oh fortunate lot ! 
 You've reap'd, and a fine yellow harvest you've 
 got. 
 
 Then, a wond'rotis magnanimous boast, too, is 
 
 yours : 
 With no reason on earth, to bring war to your 
 
 doors. 
 
 You, regardless of policy ^ safety, or pelf, 
 Have paid all the world's damage, and beggar* d 
 
 yourself. 
 
 Faith, your tax-burthen'd sons, JOHN, will bless 
 
 the dark hour 
 When the war-yv hoop of Kings, and the squeakings 
 
 of povvr, 
 
 Made a nation of Freemen the clamour applaud? 
 And load their own necks to chain monsters abroad. 
 
 Oh- 1 , to what will it come, JOHN, this guilty affair 
 For all acts of your State are, now, acts oj despair : 
 
 H 2 Like 
 
Like spendthrifts undone, evzrfrajrtic they Seem ; 
 And widen that ruin they cannot redeem. 
 
 Big curses by day, ay, and bigger by night, 
 
 On the JENKY-nurs'd Jackall, that brought on this 
 
 plight ! 
 
 Who has stalk don Court stilts to that ruinous brink 
 Where 'tis hopeless to move and more hopeless to 
 
 think. 
 
 
 
 A while your brave tars.the great prop ofyourState, 
 Have, by glory and conquest, JOHN, put off your 
 
 fate ; 
 
 But, if e'er on French decks , shouts of victory roar, 
 The Crowns a Red Night-cap and Britain's no 
 
 more. 
 
 Troth, the Car was well warn'd of War's desperate 
 
 sin, 
 When, with headlong presumption, he hurry'd 
 
 you in. 
 
 The voice of sound wisdom cry'd loud on the curse: 
 But wisdom was wind, to the voice of the nurse. 
 
 But the slave will soon see on what sand h6 has 
 
 built ; 
 
 For the virtues of Freemen now wake on his guilt : 
 They at length see the storm, and with horror refuse 
 To cut up the country for Cabinet viezvs. 
 
 Too 
 
( 53 ) 
 
 Too long, JOHN, I've told you, the helm would 
 break down, 
 
 With this foul-going Pilot, that steers for tht 
 Crown, 
 
 But, I've done ; for, wow, ruin hangs over the elf ; 
 
 &?, good luck to your king and long life to your- 
 self. 
 
( 54 ) 
 
 N XIL 
 
 COUNTRY AND TOWN. 
 
 TN London I never knew what to be at, 
 
 Enraptur'd with this ! and enchanted with that ! 
 Fm wild with the sweets of Variety's plan, 
 And life seems a blessing too happy for man. 
 
 Derry clown, &c. 
 
 But the Country, Lord help us, sets all matters 
 
 right; 
 
 So calm and composing from morning till night ; 
 O, it settles the spirits when nothing is seen 
 But an ass on a common, or goose on a green r 
 
 Derry down, See- 
 In Town if it rains, why it damps not our hope, 
 The eye has its range, and the fancy her scope ; 
 Still the same tho' it pour all night and all day, 
 It spoils not our prospecls, it stops not our way, 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 In 
 
C 55 ) 
 
 In the Country how bless'd when it rains in the 
 
 fields, 
 
 To feast upon transports that shuttlecock yields, 
 Or go crawling from window to window to see 
 A hog on a dunghill, or crow on a tree. 
 
 Dcrry down, &x*. 
 
 In London how ea^y we visit and meet* 
 
 Gay pleasure the theme, and sweet smiles are our 
 
 treat t 
 
 Our morning's a round of good humour, deligh/L 
 And we rattle in comfort and pleasure all night. 
 
 Derry down, &e\. 
 
 In the Country how charming Our visits to make. 
 Thro' ten miles of mud for formality's sake ; 
 With the coachman in drink, and the moon in a 
 
 fog, 
 
 And no thought in our head but a ditch and a bog 
 
 Derry down, &. 
 
 In London if folks ill together are put, 
 A bore may be dropt, or a quiz may be cut ; 
 We change without end, and if happy or ill, 
 Our wants are at hand, and our wjshes at will. 
 
 Derry down., &c. 
 
 In the Country you're nail'd, like a pale in your 
 
 park, 
 To some stick of a neighbour, cram'd into the 
 
 ark; 
 
 Or 
 
( 56 ) 
 
 Or if your are sick, or in fits tumble down, 
 You reach death ere the doclor can reach you from 
 Town. 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 I have heard how that love in a cottage is sweet, 
 When two hearts in ojrie Jink of soft sympathy 
 
 meet ; 
 
 I'know nothing of that, for alas ! Pm a swain, 
 Who requires. I own it, more links to my chain. 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 -Your jays and your magpies may chatter on trees, 
 And whisper soft nonsense in groves if they please ; 
 But a house is much more to my mind than a tree, 
 And for groves, O ! a fine grove of chimnies for 
 
 me. 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 Then in Town let me live, and in Town let me 
 
 die ; 
 
 For in truth I can't relish the Country, not L 
 If one must have a villa in summer to dwell, 
 O give me the sweet shady side of Pall-Mail. 
 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 < 
 
 N'XIII. 
 
( 57 ) 
 
 N XIIL 
 A NEW SONG. 
 
 Sung at the Anniversary of Mr. Fox's Birth 
 
 *~P H E rising Sun of Freedom, with radiant 
 
 justice crown'd, 
 Now, bursts in bright effulgence, and spreads its 
 
 blessings round : 
 Creation's sons rejoicing, receive the welcome 
 
 light, 
 While God unchains the fettered J^orld, and 
 
 Nature claims her right. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Then, hail celestial Liberty! fly round this 
 
 mortal sphere, 
 And, in thy blest redeeming course, unchain 
 
 thy children here. 
 
 I Soon, 
 
( 58 ) 
 
 Soon, o'er this sufFring Island, in Freedom once 
 so blest, 
 
 This vital beam returning, shall cheer the Bri- 
 ton's breast; 
 
 Vain is the hn pious arm of pow'r, or craft of tot. 
 t'ring pride, 
 
 To stop the heav'n-dire&ed ray, or turn its^ 
 course aside. 
 
 Then hail, &c. 
 
 Tho' foul corruption's baseness hath sold our isle 
 
 to woe, 
 Tho 3 deeds of dire destruction a while have laid 
 
 us low ; 
 The hour comes on, when Britain's sons their 
 
 blessings shall regain, 
 And hard oppression's iron rod, be broken here 
 
 again. 
 
 riM i -i o 
 
 Then hail, &c. 
 
 Through each eventful sera, that sounds in Bri- 
 tish song, 
 
 To Roman, Saxon, Norman, Dane, whoe'er the 
 sway belong, 
 
 Still struggling Freedom restless burn'd, uncon- 
 quered by controul, 
 
 And while the body bent to fate, more firmly 
 rose the soul. 
 
 Then hail, &c. 
 
 It 
 
f 59 ) 
 
 It matters not what safeguard the tools of pow'r 
 
 devise, 
 Swords, edi&s, chains, or brides, fn which still 
 
 tyrant sway relies ; 
 They feel their coming fate, and kntnv, tho' force 
 
 upholds their guilt, 
 One British moment strikes to dust the works 
 
 that fears have built. 
 
 Then hail, &c. 
 
 jE'en in this deadly moment, when force and fraud 
 
 combined, 
 Have stopped the breath of Freedom > and broke 
 
 the British mind. 
 The buried spark, retouch'd by heav'n, and 
 
 piercing thro 5 the strife, 
 Shall from the grave of Freedom burst, and light 
 
 us back to life ! 
 
 Then hail, &c. 
 
 ^Tis thus the God of Britain, in danger ever saves, 
 Still fate renews our Freedom, when tyrants 
 
 doom us slaves; 
 They crush her in our vices down, but when our 
 
 virtues join, 
 
 John serves her cause on Runny mede, and 
 James upon the Boyne. 
 
 Then hail, &c. 
 
 12 Oh ! 
 
( 60 ) 
 
 Oh! give me life yepoXvers, that happy hour t6 
 
 meet, 
 When strangled Freedom breathes again in this 
 
 her ancient seat ; 
 When, 'stead of tame degenerate sloth, thfe pa- 
 
 triot flame inspires, 
 And British bosoms glow again, with all their 
 
 father's fires. 
 
 Then hail, &c. 
 
 Oft tfmes I view in fancy, the bursting blaze 
 
 expand, 
 And see th' elelric spirit fly, like lightening o'er 
 
 the land ; 
 See all the jealous fervour rage ; the virtuous 
 
 tumult roar, 
 And hear th' avenging phalanx say Thus stood 
 
 our fires before. 
 
 \ 
 Then hail, &c. 
 
 Then dieer'd by British story, let's meet the 
 coming day, 
 
 When heav'n's correcting mercy, shall scourge 
 the fiends away ; 
 
 A breath can blast their tyranny, a touch un- 
 loose the chain, 
 
 And when they fall, as fall they must, we live 
 rede em' d again. 
 
 i 
 
 Then hail, &c. 
 
 Oh 
 
( 6i ) 
 
 Oh Liberty ! from traitors, avert our country's 
 
 death ! 
 Watch o'er this natal moment that gave thy 
 
 Champion breath. 
 Preserve through England's dangers, thisgmtf, 
 
 this British mind, 
 ) midst the dismal wreck of State, leave 
 
 Fox to save mankind. 
 
 N XIV. 
 
( 62 ; 
 
 NO XIV. 
 A NEW SONG. 
 
 Sung at the Anniversary oj Mr. Fex's birth, 
 
 I. 
 
 \\7ELL, now that the prospeft of Britain V a 
 
 blank- 
 No- hope from her councils, or gold from her 
 
 Bank ; 
 
 When all the vile schemes of destru6Vion and woe 
 Have eome back ort ourselves, that were meant 
 
 for our Foe ; 
 
 When projecls of famine and fire have fail'd us, 
 And heaven's just wrath is entaiPd on our 
 
 guilt j 
 
 Shall we plunge further into chaos of sin 
 That our children may bleed for the Blood w&. 
 have spilt ? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Ah, no Britons ; no it cannot be so, 
 While there's justice ABOVE, and oppression 
 
 BEfcOW ! 
 
 II. When 
 
II. 
 
 Wlien all schemes, all Attempts, all- delusions 
 
 we've tried, 
 Have but blazoned our folly and humbled our 
 
 pride ; 
 
 When the millions we've wasted in iiwpotefitaim 
 Are as barren of fruit as the Minis ter'sjrame; 
 
 When danger is all that we've got by his measures, 
 And beggary all that he's bought with our gold; 
 
 Shall we now be bereft of the little that's left 
 'Till iceall^ like himself, to perdition be sold 
 
 Ah, no, Britons, &c- 
 
 III. 
 
 When a train of bright glory unknow 'till outrtfay 
 Lio-hts the, soldiers of freedom, like stars, on 
 
 o 
 
 their way ; 
 
 When torrents and floods, by a will from on high. 
 In ONE country freeze, up, in ANOTHER run dry; 
 
 When equity's balance to slaves gives redemption. 
 And NATURE concurs to spread freedom and 
 
 light; 
 
 Shall we wickedly strive to keep darkness alive, 
 That the blessing of heaven be hid from their 
 -sight ? 
 
 Ah, no, Britons, &c. 
 
 IV. When 
 
( 64 ) 
 IV. 
 
 When a visiting plague o'er our conquests is 
 
 spread , 
 *TilI the earth we have seiz'd has scarce room 
 
 for our dead : 
 
 Where army on army God's judgment defies, 
 MV hilt pest Hence swallows what madness supplies; 
 
 Where our gold and our blood alike wastingly 
 
 vanish 
 
 The treasures of 'Britain sink dead as" her sons, 
 Shall we drain our own State to make war against 
 
 fate 
 
 And in HEAVEN'S OWN FACE plant our blas- 
 phemous guns ? 
 
 Ah, no, Britons, &e. 
 
 V. 
 
 When business of State's a mere personal trade; 
 
 When the Senate is bought ', and the people be- 
 tray* d ; 
 
 When baseness and pride, liftk'd in TYRANNY'S 
 cause, 
 
 Laugh England to scorn, and disfigure her laws; 
 
 When impudence, mockery, hate, and defiance 
 Is all that the people obtain for their pray'r ; 
 
 Shall we crouchingly lie, and see Liberty die 
 The charge our brave ancestors left to our care? 
 
 Ah, no, Britons, &c. 
 
 VI. Around, 
 
VI. 
 
 ^round^vhile despair, disappointment, and hate, 
 Sit moodily mourning the sins of the State ; 
 When men, as they mute and disconsolate stand, 
 Seem stunu'd with the fate that hangs over the 
 land ; 
 
 When all is debasement, depression, and terror, 
 And rotten corruption the bond of the State ; 
 We feel the sad times a true fruit of our crimes-*- 
 And a justice divine in the VENGEANCE OF 
 FATE! 
 
 Ah, no, Britons, &c. 
 
 VIL 
 
 When Britons to tame beasts of burden descend-- 
 When the more that's heap'd on 'em, the bet- 
 
 ter they bend ; 
 When lashes and loads have been laid on their 
 
 backs, 
 
 'Till the slaves are so sore they can't carry their 
 packs. 
 
 When scourg'd by taxation and padlock'd by 
 terror, 
 
 Their tongues are tied up while they rifle their 
 
 purse ; 
 
 Be vex'd as we may, 'faith, one cannot but say, 
 The burthen's WELL FITTED, and JUST i the 
 curse ! 
 
 Ah, no, Britons, &c. 
 K VIIL When, 
 
C 66 ) 
 
 VIII. . 
 
 When a legion of soldiers keep watch o'er each 
 
 town, 
 
 To strike the faint spirit of Liberty down : 
 Wh^n a merciless Statesman, sustained by the 
 
 sword, 
 Strides daring in arms, and makes law at d t&crd; 
 
 When bold VIOLATION, backed home by CO- 
 ERCION, 
 Leaves nothing but death or disgrace in our 
 
 way ; 
 Shall chains, or the grave the sad choice of the 
 
 slave 
 
 Thus blast the fair glorious of Runnymede's 
 day ? 
 
 Ah, no, Britons, &c. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Oh, no, gallant Britons ! there lives in your breast 
 A spirit tod long, and TOO BLINDLY supprest ! 
 A spark of that flame your brave ancestors knew, 
 When they won back the land> and gave FREE- 
 DOM to you ! 
 
 And you, gallant Britons, the treasure defending, 
 Shall yet for your sons the blest legacy save ; 
 For the momer.t comes fast, when the die will 
 
 be cast 
 
 And the banner of Frecdo ^TRIUMPH A NTLY 
 wave ! 
 
 Ah, no, Britons, &c. 
 
 N XV. 
 
( 67 ) 
 
 NXV. 
 CHEERFUL AND MELLOW. 
 
 
 a song I'm in excellent strain, 
 My spirits are light as a feather ; 
 I have got my gay heart back again, 
 That late was in love's heavy tether : 
 
 No longer I'll sigh in despair, 
 No longer a sad silly fellow ; 
 
 You may see tho' I have had care, 
 Yet my temper is cheerful and niello w* 
 
 II. 
 
 For Chloe I died on the rack, 
 While Philis for me was despairing, 
 
 Yet love ever runs in this track, 
 In spite of our cursing and caring. 
 
 Let fools then at destiny swear, 
 I leave them to bluster and bellow : 
 
 You may see thro' I have had care, 
 Yet my temper is cheerful and mellow. 
 
 in. 
 
 Good Lord, when I think of her eyes, 
 I ask how I lived tho' my sorrow : 
 
 How madness could coo.I or grow wise* 
 That ever grew worse with the morrow. 
 
 Am I cured by the bowl or the fair, 
 Is it punch, or a kind punchinello : 
 
 You may see tho' I have had care, 
 Yet my temper is cheerful and mellow, 
 
 IV. If 
 
IV, 
 
 If any be struck deep as I, 
 By Jove he must run and not reason : 
 
 Like me make an etfort and fly, 
 Ai>d drink in her absence a season. 
 
 Sing this, and soft music beware,. 
 Flute, fiddle, and violencello : 
 
 And he'll ftnd ho' he has had care, 
 That he'll soon become cheerful and mellow* 
 
 Y. 
 
 Perhaps you, might wish me to shew ? 
 How a heart that is hit may recover; 
 
 By Jove, if he dangles, I know 
 No maxim to save a true lover. 
 
 He must gallop from jealous despair, 
 Nor wait to be cursed like Othello : 
 
 And he'll find tho' he has had care, 
 That he'll soon become cheerful and mellow, 
 
 VI. 
 
 Then lovers, if any there be, 
 Who wish for a cure at this table, 
 
 In my song an example you see, 
 When willing, how much we are able, 
 
 For tho' its no elegant air, 
 With a cadence of fine Rhetornello : 
 
 You may see tho* I have had care, 
 Yet my temper is cheerful and mellow. 
 
 N XVL 
 
69 
 
 N XVI. 
 ANACREONTIC SONG. 
 
 AD POCULUM. 
 
 For which CAPTAIN MORRIS received the Prize 
 of the Gold Cap from the Harmonic Society. 
 
 O M E thou soul-reviving CUP, 
 And try thy healing art ; 
 Light the fancy's visions up, 
 
 And warm my wasted heart ; 
 Touch with glowing tints of bliss 
 
 Memory's fading dream 5 
 Give me, while thy lip I kiss, 
 The heav'n that's in thy stream ! 
 
 In thy fount the LYRIC MUSE 
 
 Ever dipp'd her wing, 
 ANACREON fed upon thy dews, 
 
 And HORACE drain'd thy spring ! 
 I, too, humblest of the train, 
 
 There my spirit find, 
 Freshen there my languid brain, 
 
 And store my vacant rnind ! 
 
 lv .When, 
 
C 70 ) 
 
 When,, blest Cur ! thy fires divine 
 
 Pierce though TIME'S dark reiga, 
 All the joys that once were mine 
 
 I snatch from DEATH again; 
 And, though oft fond anguish rise 
 
 O'er my melting mind, t 
 
 Hope still starts to Sorrow's eyes, 
 
 And drinks the tear behind ! 
 
 Ne'er, sweet CUP, was vot'ry blest 
 
 More through life than me ; 
 And that life, with grateful breast, 
 
 Thou seest I give to thee : 
 'Midst thy rose-wreath'd nymphs I pass 
 
 Mirth's sweet hours away ; 
 Fieas'd, while TIME funs through the glass 
 
 To FANCY'S brighter day ! 
 
 Then, magic CUP, again for me 
 
 Thy powV creative try 
 Again let hope-fed FANCY see 
 
 A heav'n in BEAUTY'S eye 1 
 O, lift my lighten'd heart away 
 
 On PLEASURE'S downy wing, 
 And let me taste that biiss TO-DAY 
 
 TO-MORROW MAY NOT BRING ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
 [Printed by T. BUTTON, 
 
 Britannia Street, Gray's- Inn-Lane-Road. ] 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 BERKELEY 
 
 Return to desk from which borrowed. 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 
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 LD 21-100m-ll,'49(B7146sl6)476 
 
 
YC 10766)7 
 
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 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY