SONG XCIII. THE RED CROSS KNIGHT. 'BLOW, warder, blow thy sounding horn, ' And thy banner wave on high; For the Christians have fought in the holy land, ' And have won the victory.' Loud the warder blew his horn, And his banner wav'd on high; Let the mass be sung, and the bells be rung, The warder look'd from the tower on high, 'I see a bold knight, and by his red cross, Then loud the warder blew his horn, 'I see a bold knight, and on his shield bright Then down the lord of the castle came, The red cross knight to meet, And when the red cross knight he espied, Right loving did him greet. < Thou'rt welcome here, dear red cross knight, 'For thy fame's well known to me, 'And the mass shall be sung, and the bells shall be 'Oh, I am come from the holy land, And we have fought, in the holy land, 'For with valiant might, did the Christians fight, • And made the proud pagans fly.' • Thou'rt welcome here, dear red cross knight, Come lay thy armour by ; 'And for the tidings thou dost bring, 'We'll feast us merrily. For all in my castle shall rejoice, That we've won the victory; 'And the mass shall be sung, and the bells shall be rung, And the feast eat merrily. SONG XCIV. BY R. B. SHERIDAN, ESQ. WHEN 'tis night, and the mid-watch is come, Each serving at his gun, Should any thought of them come o'er your mind : How 'twill cheer, Their hearts to hear, That their old companion he was one. Or, my lad, if you a mistress kind Have left on shore, some pretty girl and true, You serving at your gun, Should any thought of her come o'er your mind: Think only should the day be won, How 'twill cheer, Her heart to hear That her own true sailor he was one. SONG XCV. WHEN Britain, on her sea-girt shore, 'And view thine Isle with envious eyes, Their threats defy, their rage deride; 'Nor fear invasion from those adverse Gauls, Britain's best bulwarks are-her wooden walls. 'Thine oaks descending to the main, ' With floating force shall stem the tides, 'Asserting Britain's liquid reign, 6 Where'er thy thund'ring navy rides. 'Nor less to peaceful arts inclin'd, And join the sea-divided shores : Spread then thy sails where naval glory calls, Britain's best bulwarks are-her wooden walls.' Hail, happy Isle ! what though thy vales Of industry, to labour prone, While other realms tyrannic sway enthrals, |