who can difcover aught wanting but this, England to rival e'en heav'n in blifs? eir women as beauteous we often behold,

f form'd with our clay in your mistress's mould; ile their men fo much valour difplay in the field, at they make like yourself ev'ry enemy yield [fhow In what room for regret, tho' no grapes they can e they always beat thofe in whofe kingdoms they

2

U bid me my jovial companions forfake, joys of a rural recefs to partake;

[grow.

you, my good friend, I'll retreat to the vine, elter be yours-but its nectar be mine; each 'twill a feparate pleasure produce,

cool in its fhade, whilft I glow with its juice; own no delight with his rapture can vie, always is drinking, yet always is dry. lover may talk of his flames and his darts, udgment of eyes, and his conqueft of hearts, fmile with the wanton, and fport with the gay, y where he can, and defert where he may : he warmest adherents of love muft deplore, its favours when tafted, are favours no more; how can fuch joys with his extacy vie, always is drinking, yet always is dry? ition, they tell me, has charms for us all, vell I'm convinc'd they're charms that must pall pageant of fplendor may lure for a while, oon we grow fick of its weight and its toil; an it with us be compar'd, my brave boy, fe appetites ftrengthen the more we enjoy; deign, ye kind pow'rs! with this wish to com I always be drinking, yet always be dry! [ply

In extacy I figh and fay,
Thus let me love my life away.
Whene'er the jocund bowl we pass,

And merry fong and tale go round;
When wine is fparkling in the glass,
And joke and fprightly wit abound,
With catch and glee,

Good humour free;
While thus we find our joys increafing,
Laughter roars with mirth unceafing,
In extacy I pant and fay,

Thus let me laugh my life away:
O lovely woman! gen'rous wine!

Thefe potent pleasures let me quaffi;
Thy raptures, wit, O make them mine;
Oh let me love, and drink, and laugh!
Each rifing thought,
With mufic fraught,

Where all is pleasure, nothing wanting,
All harmonious, all enchanting,
In extacy I pant and say,

Thus let me fing my life away.

4

SONS of Ocean, fam'd in story,

Wont to wear the laurel'd brow; Liften to your rifing glory,

Growing honouas wait you now j Think not fervile adulation

Meanly marks my grateful fong, All the praises of the nation

Giv'n to you, to you belong; And rival kingdoms send from far Their plaudits to the British Tar. 'Tis not now your valiant daringCourage you've for ages fhewn; 'Tis not now your mild forbearing,Pity ever was your own; 'Tis your Prince, fo lov'd, so pleasing, Spreads your fame thro' diftant lands, And the Trident nobly feizing,

Grafps it in his youthful hands;
Proud to boaft in peace or war,
The virtues of the British Tar.

When

When the times were big with danger,

See your Royal shipmate go,
And to every fear a franger,

Brave the fury of the foe :
Now when fmiling Peace rejoices,

Greet him with a failor's arts;
Chear his prefence with your voices,
Pay his fervice with your hearts,
And be henceforth your leading ftar,
The gallant, Royal British Tar.

5

WHILE the lads in the village fhall merrily, ah!

Sound the tabor, I'll hand thee along, And I fay unto thee, that verily, ah!

Thou and I will be firft in the throng. Juft then, when his youth who last year won the With his mate fhall the fport have begun, [dow'r When the gay voice of gladnefs is heard from each And though long'ft in thine heart to make one. [bow's Thofe joys that are harmless what mortal can blame, "Tis my maxim that youth fhould be free, And to prove that my words and my deeds are the Believe thou shalt presently fee,

While the lads, &c.

6

OH! the days when I was young! When I laugh'd in fortune's fpite, Talk'd of love the whole day long,

And with nectar crown'd the night. Then it was, old father Care,

Little reck'd I of thy frown;
Half thy malice youth could bear,
And the reft a bumper drown.
Oh! the days, &c.

Truth, they fay, lies in a well,
Why I vow I ne'er could fee;
Let the water-drinkers tell,

There it always lay for me:
For when fparkling wine went round,
Never faw I falfhood's mafk;

But ftill honeft truth I found,

In the bottom of each flafk!
Oh! the days, &c.

[fame

True at length my vigour's flown, I have years to bring decay; Few the locks that now I own,

And the few I have are grey! Yet, old Jerome, thou may'ft boast, While thy fpirits do not tire, Still beneath thy age's froft Glows a fpark of youthful fire. Oh! the days, &c.

7

COME now all ye focial powers,

Shed your influence o'er us, Crown with joy the prefent hours, Enliven thofe before us.

Bring the flask, the mufic bring,

Joy fhall quickly find us,

Drink and dance and laugh and fing, And caft dull care behind us. Friendship, with thy pow'r divine, Brighten all our features,

What but friendship, love, and wine, Can make us happy creatures. Bring the flafk, &c.

Love, thy Godhead I adore,

Source of gen'rous paffion,
But will ne'er bow down before,
Thofe idols, wealth or fashion.
Bring the flask, &c.

Why the plague fhould we be fad,
Whiift on earth we moulder,
Whether we're merry, grave, or glad,
We ev'ry day grow older.

Bring the flask, &c.

Then fince Time will steal away,
Spite of all our forrow,

Heighten ev'ry joy to-day,
And never mind to-morrow.

Bring the flask, &c.

'Gainft fixty-two,
O luckless lot!
His bow he drew,
At me he fhot.
Twang went the ftring,
Whizz flew the dart,
On a grey goose wing,

To an old man's heart.

But I'll be merry,

Hey down derry; Dull for ow I'll drown, Derry down, down, Or laugh at them all, Tol de rol lol.

13

WHILE I'm at the tavern quaffing,
Well difpofed for t'other quart;
Comes my wife to fpoil my laughing,
Telling me 'tis time to part;
Words I knew were unavailing,

Yet I fternly answer'd, no!
'Till from motives more prevailing,
Sitting down fhe treads my toe.
Such kind tokens, to my thinking,
Moft emphatically prove;

That the joys, which flow from drinking,
Are averfe to thofe of love;
Farewell, friends, and t'other bottle,

Since I can no longer ftav;

Love, more learn'd than Ariftotle,
Has to move me found the way.

HERO

I warrant fhe'll prove an excufe for the glass.
Here's to the maiden whose dimples we prize,
Likewife to her that has none, fir;
Here's to the maid with a pair of blue eyes,
And here's to her that's but one fir,
Let the toaft pafs, &c.

Here's to the maid with a bofom of fnow,
And to her that's as brown as a berry;
And here's to the wife with a face full of woe,
And here's to the girl that is merry.
Let the toaft pafs, &c.

Let her be clumfy, or let her be flim,

Young, or antient, I care not a feather; So fill the pint bumper quite up to the brim, And e'en let us toaft them together.

Let the toaft pafs,

Drink to the lafs,

17

BID me, when forty winters more

Have furrow'd deep my pallid brow; When from my head, a fcanty ftore,

Lankly the wither'd treffes flow: When the warm tide, that bold and ftrong Now rolls impetuous on, and free, Languid and flow scarce creeps along, Then bid me court sobriety.

Nature, who form'd the varied fcene.

Of rage and calm, of froft and fire, Unerring guide, could only mean

That age fhould reafon-youth defire Shall then that rebel, man, prefume (Inverting nature's law) to feize The dues of age in youth's bright bloom, And join impoffibilities?

No!let me waste the frolic May,

In wanton joys, and wild excefs; In revel fport, and laughter gay,

And mirth, and jovial chearfulness.
Woman, the foul of all delights

And wine, the aid of love, be near;
All charms me that to joy incites,
And ev'ry the, that's kind, is fair.

Swiftly make the jack go round,
Let me have it nicely brown'd.
On the table spread the cloth,
Let the knives be sharp and clean;
Pickles get of ev'ry fort,

And a fallad crisp and green:
Then with small beer, and fparkling wine,
O, ye gods! how I fhall dine!

22

GOD fave great George, our king!
Long live our noble king,
God fave the king!
Send him victorious,
Happy and glorious,
Long to reign over us,
God fave the king.

O Lord, our God, arife,
Scatter his enemies,

And make them fall;
Confound their politicks,
Fruftrate their knavish tricks;
On him our hopes we fix;

God fave us all.

The choiceft gifts in ftore,
On George be pleas'd to pour,

Long may he reign;
May he defend our laws,
And ever give us caufe,
To fing with heart and voice,
God fave the king.