The leak we've found, it cannot pour fast, She rights, she rights, boys, we're off shore! Now once more on joys we 're thinking, Since kind Heaven has sav'd our lives! Close to our lips a brimmer join: $59. Song. Neptune's raging Fury; or the gallant Seaman's Sufferings. You gentlemen of England That live at home at ease, Ah, little do you think upon Must bear a valiant heart, In hail, rain, blow, or snow, Nor to think for to shrink When the stormy winds do blow. Both day and night, with many a fright, We seldom rest secure ; Our sleep it is disturbed With visions strange to know, And with dreams on the streams, When the stormy winds do blow. In claps of roaring thunder, Which darkness doth enforce, When the stormy winds do blow. 'Tis that must bear us out; The lawyer and the usurer, In closets warm, can take no harm, When winter fierce with cold doth pierce, When the stormy winds do blow. When the stormy winds do blow. Sometimes again, to France and Spain, In taverns on a row, Then we sweep o'er the deep, And greatest fears are past, If enemies oppose us, When England is at war With any foreign nations, We fear not wound nor scar; We are no cowardly shrinkers, We'll ply our parts, like valiant hearts, Whene'er we come or go, When the stormy winds do blow. When the stormy winds do blow. $60. Song. GOLDSMITH. THE wretch condemn'd with life to part Hope, like the glimmering taper's light, § 61. Song. GOLDSMITH. O MEMORY! thou fond deceiver, And turning all the past to pain: Thou, like the world, th' oppress'd oppressing, § 62. Song. GENTLY touch the warbling lyre, Softest notes will soothe her breast: (Nature's verdant velvet bed), Beauteous flowers meet her eyes, Forming pillows for her head; Zephyrs waft their odours round, And indulging whispers sound. § 63. The same parodied. GENTLY stir and blow the fire, Lay the mutton down to roast, Dress it quickly, I desire, In the dripping put a toast, That I hunger may remove; Mutton is the meat I love. On the dresser see it lie, O! the charming white and red! Finer meat ne'er met my eye. On the sweetest grass it fed: Let the jack go swiftly round, Let me have it nicely brown'd. On the table spread the cloth, Let the knives be sharp and clean : Pickles get, and salad both, Let them each be fresh and green : With small beer, good ale, and wine, O ye Gods! how I shall dine! § 65. A Dirge. D'URFEY. SLEEP, sleep, poor youth! sleep, sleep in peace, Couch'd in the dark and silent grave, Far from thy happy mansion keep: Can't rock thee into sounder sleep. With all the charms of peace possest, Secure from life's tormentor, pain, Sleep, and indulge thyself with rest, Nor dream thou ere shalt rise again. COME follow, follow me, Light tripping o'er the green; When mortals are at rest, And if the house be foul Then we pinch their arms and thighs; But if the house be swept, The grasshopper, gnat, and fly, And if the moon doth hide her head, The glow-worm lights us home to bed. O'er tops of dewy grass The young and tender stalk Ne'er bends where we do walk; Yet in the morning may be seen Where we the night before have been. $58. Song. The Thief and Cordelier. PRIOR. WHO has e'er been at Paris must needs know the Grève, There the squire of the pad, and the knight of the post, The fatal retreat of th' unfortunate brave; Where honor and justice most oddly contribute To ease heroes' pains by a halter and gibbet. Find their pains no more balk'd, and their hopes no more cross'd. Derry down, &c. Derry down, down, hey derry down. There death breaks the shackles which force to boot; But our actions, you know, with our duty must suit: 958 The feast I propos'd to you, I cannot taste; Then turning about to the hangman, he said: For thy cord and my cord both equally tie; And we live by the gold for which other men die. Derry down, down, hey derry down. § 69. Song. Admiral Hosier's Ghost. GLOVER. It was written by the ingenious author of Leonidas, on the taking of Porto-Bello from the Spaniards by Admiral Vernon, Nov. 22, 1739.-The case of Hosier, which is here so pathetically represented, was briefly this: In April, 1726, that commander was sent with a strong fleet to the West Indies, to block up the galleons in the ports of that country; or, should they presume to come out, to seize and carry them to England: he accordingly arrived at the Bastimentos, near Porto-Bello, but being restricted by his orders from obeying the dictates of his courage, lay inactive on that station until he became the "jest of the Spaniards: he afterwards removed to Carthagena, and continued cruising in these seas till the far greater part of his men perished deplorably by the diseases of that unhealthy climate. This brave man, seeing his best officers and men thus daily swept away, his ships exposed to inevitable destruction, and himself made the sport of the enemy, is said to have died of a broken heart. As near Porto-Bello lying On the gently-swelling flood, Which for winding-sheets they wore, On them gleam'd the moon's wan lustre ; Rising from their wat'ry grave: I am Hosier's injur'd ghost; You now triumph free from fears; You will mix your joys with tears. See these mournful spectres sweeping Who were once my sailors bold; I, by twenty sail attended, O! that in this rolling ocean I had cast them with disdain ; But with twenty ships had done Of this gallant train had been. To have fallen, my country crying, Thy successful arms we hail; And let Hosier's wrongs prevail. Not in glorious battle slain. We recall our shameful doom, Wander through the midnight gloom. You neglect my just request: When your patriot friends you see, As freedom they love, and for glory contend, That the battle will be soon begun. Two hundred or more was their good comple-Tourville on the main triumphant roll'd, ment, And sure braver fellows to sea never went: Fire, thunder, balls, bullets, were seen, heard, A sight that the heart of Bellona would melt! green : I ne'er saw the fellow of brave captain Death." $71. Song. The Sea Fight in xent. THURSDAY in the morn, the ides of May, Recorded for ever the famous ninety-two, Brave Russel did discern, by dawn of day, The lofty sails of France advancing now; * Called the Vengeance. To meet the gallant Russel in combat on the deep; He led a noble train of heroes bold, To sink the English admiral and his fleet. For evermore adieu, thou Royal dazzling Sun, Let us drink to every English tar. $72. Song. Peggyt. GARRICK. That burns for thee, my Peggy: + The great naval victory, intended to be celebrated by this excellent old song, was determined, after a running action of several days, off Cape La Hogue, on the coast of Normandy, the 22d of May, 1692, in favor of the English and Dutch combined fleets, consisting of 99 sail of the line, under the command of Admiral Russel, afterwards Earl of Orford, over a French squadron of about half that number, commanded by the Chevalier Tourville, whose ship Le Soleil Royal carried upwards of a hundred guns, and was esteemed the finest vessel in Europe. This last fleet was fitted out for the purpose of restoring King James the Second to his dominions; and that prince, together with the Duke of Berwick, and several great officers both of his own court and of the court of France, and even Tourville himself, beheld the final destruction of the French ships from an eminence on the shore. It is now certain that Russel had engaged to favor the scheme of his old master's restoration, on condition that the French took care to avoid him; but Tourville's mpetuosity and rashness rendered the whole measure abortive: and the distressed and ill-fated nonarch retired in a fit of despondency, to mourn his misfortunes, and recover his peace of nind, amid the solitary gloom of La Trappe. This song was written in compliment to Mrs. Woffington. |