Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame
All their attempts to bend thee down
Will but arouse thy-arouse thy generous flame,
And work their woe and thy renown.
Rule Britannia, &c.

To thee belongs the rural reign;

Thy cities shall with commerce shine;
And thine shall be the-shall be the subject main,
And every shore it circles thine.
Rule Britannia, &c.

The muses, still with freedom sound,
Shall to thy happy coast repair,

Bless'd isle! with beauty-with matchless beauty crown'd,

And manly hearts to guard the fair.
Rule Britannia, &c.

The Plough Boy.

A FLAXEN-headed cowboy, as simple as may be, And next a merry ploughboy, I whistled o'er the lea;

But now a saucy footman, I strut in worsted lace; And soon I'll be a butler, and wag my jolly face: When steward I'm promoted, I'll snip a tradesman's bill,

My master's coffers empty my pockets for to fill : When lolling in my chariot, so great a man I'll be, You'll forget the little ploughboy that whistled o'er the lea.

I'll buy votes at elections, but when I've made the

pelf,

I'll stand poll for the parliament, and then vote in myself;

Whatever's good for me, sir, I never will oppose, When all my ayes are sold off, why then I'll sell my noes:

I'll joke, harangue, and paragraph, with speeches charm the ear;

And when I'm tired on my legs, then I'll sit down

a peer;

In court or city honour, so great a man I'll be, You'll forget the little ploughboy that whistled o'er the lea.

The Miseries of a Quality Footman.

A FOOTMAN so dapper

With well-powder'd napper,

Quite brimful of pride and frivolity,
What service I've seen,

When footman I've been
To a lady of rank and quality.

Twenty heads, fifty hands,
To obey her commands,

I should need for they come in a swarm;
And I once was disgrac'd,

'Cause two words were misplac'd

In a message as long as my arm.

(Spoken ad libitum)—It was from my Lady Howd'ye to my Lady Allnight, and run thus: "Make

my compliments to her ladyship, tell her that a certain person that I know has been speaking to a certain person that she knows, on a particular subject that we both know, concerning a private affair of Lady Betty's that all the world knows." So, as I said before, for misplacing a syllable or two, I lost my place,

Such service I've seen,

When footman I've been
To a lady of rank and quality.

With cards, visit, and rout,
Dining home, dining out,
Lap-dogs and beaux all frivolity,
I was never at rest-

So the footman is blest
Of a lady of rank and quality.

Twenty jobs at a time,

I found wouldn't chime,
I was just like a slave at his oar;
So of comfort bereft,

Ladies' service I've left,

And I near mean to take to it more.

(Spoken ad libitum.)--One morning, said my mistress, "Martin, bring in breakfast, afterwards attend the young ladies in Hyde Park-you have only fifty cards to deliver this morning; so you can step to the library for Miss Flimsey's new novel, and look in at Birchall's for Mr. Humstrum our music-master's new senata-run to the Morning Post and bespeak two columns and a half for my rout on Thursday, then call for the puffs at the pastrycook's take a front box at the theatre.

When the play is over I shall go to Lady Dasher's rout, and finish the evening at the Honourable Mrs. Chetum's card party.

Thank heaven 'tis o'er,

I'll be footman no more
To a lady of rank and quality.

Hearty Good Fellow.

WITH my pipe in one hand, and my jug in the other,

I drink to my neighbour and friend,

All my cares in a whiff of tobacco I smother,
For life I know shortly must end;

For while Ceres most kindly refills my brown jug,
With good liquor I'll seat myself mellow,
In an old wicker chair I'll make myself snug,
Like a jolly and true hearted fellow.

I'll ne'er trouble my head with the cares of the nation,

I've enough of my own for to mind,

For the cares of this life are but grief and vexation, To death we must all be consign'd;

Then I'll laugh, drink, and smoke, and leave nothing to pay,

But drop like a pear that is mellow,

And when cold in my coffin I'll leave them to say, He is gone, what a hearty good fellow.

Honest Bob of the Mill.

MY heart is as honest and brave as the best,
My body's as sound as a roach,
Tho' in gay fangl'd garments I never was drest,
Nor stuck up my nob in a coach:
If Fortune refuses to flow with my stream,
My sacks with her riches to fill,

Why surely 'tis Fortune alone that's to blame,
And not honest Bob of the Mill.

My heart is as artless and blythe as my lay,
From my cottage content never flies;
She is sure to reward the fatigue of the day,
And I know how to value the prize.
Would the girl that I love then but give me her
hand,

The world it might wag as it will;

I defy the first 'squire, or lord of the land,
To dishonour plain Bob of the Mill.

The Bay of Biscay 0!
LOUD roar'd the dreadful thunder!
The rain a deluge showers!
The clouds were rent asunder,
By lightning's vivid powers!

The night both drear and dark,
Our poor devoted bark,

Till next day, there she lay,
In the Bay of Biscay