IV. Four Cardinal Virtues fhe left in this Ifle, The bloffoms of LIBERTY then 'gan to fmile, And Englishmen fed on the fruit. Thus fed and thus bred, from a bounty fo rare, O preferve it as free as 'twas given! We will whilft we've breath; nay, we'll grafp it in death, Then return it untainted to heav'n. SONG. Ο NE evening GooD HUMOUR took WiT as his guest, Their liquor was claret, and FRIENDSHIP their host, But while, like true bucks, they enjoy'd their defign, twelve o'clock." Derry down, &c. They nimbly ran down, the disturbing dog found, Derry down, &c. His glafs as his lanthorn, his scythe as his pole, And his fingle lock dangl'd a down his smooth skull; My friends, quoth he, coughing, I thought fit to knock, And bid ye begone, for 'tis past 12 o'clock. Derry down, &c. Say'd the venom-tooth'd fage, on this advice fix, Derry down, &c. This is right, call'd out Wit; while you're yet prime, There's nothing like claret for killing of Time: Derry down, &c. Since TIME is confin'd to our wine, let us think CANTATA FROM THE ODE OF ANACREON. AIR. IF gold could lengthen life, I fwear, It then should be my chiefest care To get a heap, that I might fay, When Death came to demand his pay, Thou flave take this, and go thy way. } But fince life is not to be bought, With vain complaints and fruitless cries. RECITATIVE. For fince the fates will have it fo, What good will gold, or whining, do? AIR. Give me, to ease my thirsty foul, That once I had the WORLD my slave. M } SONG. WHEN ORPHEUS went down to the regions below, Which men are forbidden to fee, He tun'd up his lyre, as old histories fhew, All Hell ftood amaz'd-that a perfon fo wife And venture fo far; but how vaft their furprise II. To find out a punishment due to the fault, OLD PLUTO long puzzled his brain,—— But pity, fucceeding, foon vanquifh'd his heart, SONG. COMPANION TO THE LAST. WHEN ORPHEUS went down to the regions below To bring back the wife that he lov'd, Old Pluto confounded, as hiftories fhew, That a woman fo good, fo virtuous, and fair, To give up her freedom for forrow and care,- II. For punishment he never ftudied a whit; But foon he compaffion'd the woman's hard fate, He recall'd her again, before 'twas too late, SONG. FROM THE MASQUE OF COMUS. THE MUSIC BY DR. ARNE. Y dimpled brook and fountain brim, BY The wood-nymphs, deck'd with daifies trim, Their merry wakes and paftimes keep: |