From my sight let the curse be eternally driv'n, Where my reason so fatally stray'd; That no more I may offer an insult to Heav'n, Or give man a cause to upbraid. SONG LXIV. THE SOLDIER. BY WM. SMYTH, ESQ. WHAT dreaming drone was ever blest On comes the foe-to arms-to arms- Or fame in Britain's story: Thou land of honour and renown, Who would not die to save thee? 'Tis you, 'tis I, that meets the ball; In battle with the brave to fall, Than die of cold diseases; Than drivel on in elbow-chair, But thou-dark is thy flowing hair, SONG LXV. OLD ENGLAND. WHO thirsts for more knowledge is welcome to roam, Old England, brave boys, good enough is for me, Whatever I wish for, now comes at my call, I can roam in my fields, I can feast in my hall; My time is my own, I can do as I will, I have children that prattle, a wife that is still. I.feel that I'm happy, though taxes run high, I want no exotics, so easy am I; I'm alive to my friends, and at peace with the dead, Contention I hate, and my glass I love most, When the King and Old England are nam'd as the toast. SONG LXVI. THE FLOWING BOWL. WHENE'ER the gods, like us below, Their bowls do with rich nectar flow, The glitt'ring star and ribbon blue Let such in pride and splendour roll,. For liberty let patriots rave, I care not who divides the coal, The son he wants old square-toes gone, And miss is mad to wed; The doctor wants you to be sick, The undertaker dead : All have their wants, from pole to pole, I want an ever-flowing bowl. SONG LXVII. IN the social amusements of life let me live, At the festival board, where my Phoebe can share Time was meant for a blessing, not dealt as a curse, But I'll live, and I'll love, and I'll laugh while I can ; Our souls to improve, and our senses refine. SONG LXVIII. LET the waiter bring clean glasses, It is not the charms of beauty, To the health I'm now proposing, Let's have one full glass at least ; No one here can think't imposing"Tis the founder of the feast! Mirth and all thy train come in, tears, and sighs. Banish sorrow, |