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How in one day, beneath his furious speed,
Ah, too fond mother, think the time draws nigh,
crime. How wilt thou tremble when thy nipple's prest, To see the white drops bathe thy swelling breast! Nine moons shall publicly divulge thy shame, And the young squire forestall a father's name. When twice twelve times the reaper's sweeping
hand With levell'd harvests has bestrown the land ;
On fam'd St. Hubert's feast his winding horn
The time shall come when his more solid sense
name, Whom vengeance now o'ertakes for murder'd game.
Assist me, Bacchus, and ye drunken powers, To sing his friendships and his midnight hours !
Why dost thou glory in thy strength of beer, Firm cork'd and mellow'd till the twentieth year; Brew'd, or when Phoebus warms the fleecy sign, Or when his languid rays in Scorpio shine ?
Think on the mischiefs which from hence have
sprung! It arms with curses dire the wrathful tongue ; Foul scandal to the lying lip affords, And prompts the memory with injurious words. O where is wisdom when by this o'erpower'd? The state is censur'd, and the maid deflower'd?' And wilt thou still, o Squire, brew ale so strong? Hear then the dictates of prophetic song.
Methinks I see him in his hall appear, Where the long table floats in clammy beer, 'Midst mugs and glasses shatter'd o'er the floor, Dead drunk, his servile crew supinely snore; Triumphant, o'er the prostrate brutes he stands, The mighty bumper trembles in his hands; Boldly he drinks, and, like his glorious sires, In copious gelps of potent ale expires.
SWEET WILLIAM'S FAREWELL TO BLACK-EYED
All in the Downs the fleet was moor’d,
The streamers waving in the wind,
Oh! where shall I my true-love find ?
William, who high upon the yard
Rock'd with the billow to and fro,
Soon as her well-known voice he heard,
He sigh'd, and cast his eyes below: The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands, And (quick as lightning) on the deck he stands.
So the sweet lark, high pois’d in air,
Shuts close his pinions to his breast,
And drops at once into her nest.
My vows shall ever true remain ;
We only part to meet again. Change, as ye list, ýe winds; my heart shall be The faithful compass that still points to thee.
Believe not what the landmen say,
Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind. They'll tell thee, sailors, when away, In
every port a mistress find : Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so, For thou art present wheresoe'er I go.
If to fair India's coast we sail,
Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright,
Thy skin is ivory so white.
Though battle call me from thy arms,
Let not my pretty Susan mourn;
William shall to his dear return.
The boatswain gave the dreadful word,
The sails their swelling bosom spread ; No longer must she stay aboard:
They kiss'd, she sigh'd, he hung his head. Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land : Adieu ! she cries; and wav'd her lily hand.
FROM THE WHAT-D'YE-CALL-IT.
'Twas when the seas were roaring
With hollow blasts of wind,
All on a rock reclin'd.
She cast a wistful look ;
That trembled o'er the brook.
Twelve months are gone and over,
And nine long tedious days.
Why didst thou trust the seas?