No bigots rule the roast now, with persecution dire, sir; [the fire, sir; Burning zeal now no more heaps the faggot on No bishop now can broil a poor Jew like a pigeon, sir; Nor barbacue a Pagan, like a pig, for religion, sir. Such are the golden days, &c.

Now no legendary saint robs the lab'rer of one day, Except, now and then, when he celebrates Saint Monday:

And good folks, ev'ry Sabbath, keep church without a pother, sir, [t'other, sir. By walking in at one door, and stealing out at Such are the golden days, &c. Then, for dress, modern belles bear the bell beyond compare, sir, [wear, sir; Though farthingales and ruffs are got rather out of But when truss'd up, like pullets, whether fat, lean, or plump, sir,

'Tis no matter, so they've got but a merry thought and rump, sir. Such are the golden days, &c.

Then for props of the state, what can equal in story, sir, [sir? Those two stately pillars, call'd a Whig and a Tory, Though, by shifting their ground, they sometimes get so wrong, sir, [sir. They forget to which side of the house they belong, Such are the golden days, &c. But, as props of their strength and uprightness may boast, sir, [post, sir, While the proudest of pillars may be shook by a May the firm friends of freedom her blessings inherit, sir, [merit, sir. And her foes be advanc'd to the post which they Then shall the golden days we now possess Far surpass the boasted days of good Queen Bess.

But

Leave me not with an-guish riven,
Oft, my nightly vigils keeping,

I have watch'd you till the dawn;
Through the far blue heavens sweeping,
On your snowy pinions borne !
Away, away, for ever speeding,
Careless wanderers of the air;

None who love me, none to

love.

Human joy and woe unheeding,
Ah! ye pause not at my prayer!
Leave, O, leave me not in sadness,
Heavenly longings in my breast;
Bear me on your wings of gladness
To the far home of my rest!

Moderato.

Α - cross

turn my thoughts where
Like the chaf'd wave, 'twixt it and here,
My surging spirit darkly swells;
Yet one bright spot of love will ne'er

Grow dim beneath its moody spells ;Howe'er the storm-cloud o'er me come, Bright be my father's children's home! There dwell the sisters, dower'd with aught Of love once warm'd a heart, now cold; Which still, for them, would think it naught

roam-It is my father's

children's home!

To coin its life-drops into gold;
The bright-eyed urchins there, to roam,
Who glad a grey-haired father's home!
My blessings on the much-lov'd spot,

Because I love the dwellers there:
When they are lov'd not, or forgot,

Unanswer'd be my fondest prayer! Though ne'er within its cope I come,

Heaven shield my father's children's home!

Cantabile.

get all my friends to
Once I took a great deal of strong drink-
Rum, brandy, and all of that ere, sir;
But it now gives me pleasure to think
Alcohol I scarcely can bear, sir.
Neither wine, beer-nor cider, for me, sir;
But I do sometimes take a moiety
Of brandy mix'd into my tea,-

'Tis allowed by the Total Society.
Should you ask, 'why my nose looks so red'-
One gentleman there I see winking-
Now to tell you the reason I dread;

But it blushes to see so much drinking.' Should your cheeks be as red as a rose, And you stick to the strictest sobriety, The bloom will draw down to your nose, If you join the Teetotal Society.

"tal Society.

In your limbs should you have any pains, Pour rum on the part that's affected; Or brandy, internally, for strains

For rheumatism 'tis not rejected. You may always keep some in the house, Only use it with strictest propriety, And keep it as snug as a mouse'Tis allowed by the Total Society. One night I'd been lecturing hard,

I felt that my breathing grew shorter, I found that some wag, 'pon my word, Had put gin in my pitcher of water. I felt very faint, I declare,

For you know I'm the pink of sobriety; I was carried home in an arm-chair, By some mems of the Total Society.