To his fill'd heart a little Nancy preffing,
While a young tar, the ample trowsers ey'd,
In need of firmness in this ftate diftreffing,
Will check'd the rifing figh and fondly cry'd,
Ne'er let the perils of the fickle ocean;

Loud blew the wind, when leaning on that willow, Where the dear name of William printed stood, When Nancy faw, upon a faithless billow,

A fhip dash'd 'gainst a rock that topp'd the flood, Her tender heart with frantic forrow thrilling, Wild as the ftorm that howl'd along the shore, No longer could refift a ftroke fo killing,

'Tis he! fhe cri'd, nor fhall I fee him more! Why did he ever trust the fickle ocean? Sorrow's my portion,

Mifery and pain,
Break my poor heart,

For now we part,
Never to meet again.

Mild was the eve, all nature was fmiling,

Four tedious years had Nancy pafs'd in grief, When with her children, the fad hours beguiling, She faw her William fly to her relief.

Sunk in his arms with blifs he quickly found her, But foon return'd to life, to love and joy, While her grown young ones anxioufly furround her, And now Will clafps his girl and now his boy, Did I not say, though 'tis a fickle ocean, Sorrow's all a notion,

ADIEU! adieu! my only life,
My honour calls me from thee!]
Remember thou'rt a foldier's wife,
Those tears but ill become thee.
What though by duty I am call'd
Where thund'ring cannons rattle,
Where valour's felf might stand appal'd,
When on the wings of thy dear love,

B

To heav'n above

Thy fervent orifons are flown;
The tender pray'r

Thou put'ft up there,

Shall call a guardian angel down,
To watch me in the battle.

My fafety thy fair truth fhall be,
As fword and buckler ferving;
My life shall be more dear to me,
Because of thy preferving.
Let peril come, let horror threat,
Let thund'ring cannons rattle,
I fearless feek the conflict's heat,
Affur'd, when on the wings of love,
To heav'n above, &c.

Enough with that benignant fmile,
Some kindred god infpir'd thee,
Who faw thy bofom void of guile,
Who wonder'd and admir'd thee.
go, affur'd, my life, adieu!

I

Tho' thund'ring cannons rattle; Tho' murd'ring carnage ftalk in view, When on the wings of thy true love, To heaven above, &c.

O! I HAE SEEN THE ROSES BLAW.

O! I hae feen the roses blaw,

The heather bloom, the broom an a’,
The lily fpring as white as fnaw,
Wi' a' their native fplendor:
Yet Mary's fweeter on the green,
As fresh an' fair as Flora queen,
Mair ftately than the branching bean,
And like the ivy flender.

In nature like a fummer day,
Tranfcendent as a funny ray,

Her shape and air is frank an' gay,
Wi' a' that's fweet an' tender.

While lavrocks fing their cheerfu' lays,
An' fhepherds brufh the dewy braes,
To meet wi' Mary's bonny face,
Amang the fhades I wander.
My captive breaft, (by fancy led)
Adores the fweet the lovely maid,
Wi' ilka fmile and charm array'd,
To make a heart furrender.
I love her mair than bees do flow'rs,
Or birks the spreading leafy bow'rs;
Her prefence yields me what the fhow'rs,
To hills and valleys render.

Cou'd I obtain my charmer's love,
Mair ftable than a rock I'd prove;
Wi' a' the meeknefs of a dove,

To ilka pleafure hand her:
If fhe wad like a fhepherd lad,

I'd change my cane for crook an' plaid,
Upon the hill tune up the reed,

An' wi' a fang commend her.

For her I'd live a life remote;
Wi' her I'd love a rustic cot,

There blefs kind fortune for my

lot,

And ilka comfort lend her

MEG OF WAPPING.

'TWAS landlady Meg, that made fuch rare flip; Pull away, pull away, hearties;

At Wapping fhe liv'd, at the fign of the ship,
Where tars met in fuch jolly parties.

She'd fhine at the play, and she'd jig at the ball,
All rigg'd out fo gay and fo topping;

For fhe marry'd fix husbands and bury'd them all, Pull away, pull away, pull away, I fay;

What d'ye think of my Meg of Wapping?