O gently close the eye,

That lov’d to look on you :
O seal the lip, whose earliest sigh,

Whose latest breath was true.

With knots of sweetest flow'rs

Their winding-sheet perfume ; And wash their wounds with true love show'rs, And dress them for the tomb.

O for the death of those, &c.

Ye spotted snakes, with double tongue,

Thorny hedge-hogs, be not seen;
Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong,
Come not near our fairy-queen.

Philomel, with melody,
Sing in our sweet lullaby,

Lulla, lulla, lullaby :
Never harm, nor spell nor charm,
Come our lovely lady nigh,
So good night, with lullaby;

Lulla, lulla, lullaby.

Weaving spiders, come not here,

Hence, ye long-leg'd spinners, hence :
Beetles black, approach not near,
Worm, nor snail, do no offence.

Philomel, with melody, &c.

SONG LXXXVII.

BY MRS. RADCLIFFE.

In the sightless air I dwell,

On the sloping sun-beams play, Delve the cavern's inmost cell,

Where never yet did day-light stay; Dive beneath the green sea waves,

And sport amid the briny deep; Skim every shore that Neptune laves,

From Lapland's plain to India's steep:

And listen to celestial sounds

That swell the air, unheard of men, As I watch my nightly rounds

O’er woody steep and silent glen: Then when the breeze has sunk away,

And ocean scarce is heard to lave, For me the sea-nymphs softly play

Their dulcet shells beneath the wave,

In thrilling sounds that murmur woe,

And pausing silence makes more dread; In music breathing from below,

Sad solemn sounds that wake the dead. Unseen I move, unknown am fear’d,

And fancy's wildest dreams I weave ; And oft by bards my voice is heard

To die along the gales of eve.

SONG LXXXVIII.

BY THE SAME.

Down, down, a thousand fathom deep,
Among the sounding seas I

go, Play round the foot of every steep,

Whose cliffs above the ocean grow.
In coral bowers I love to lie,
And hear the surges

roll above, And through the waters view on high

The proud ship's sail, and gay clouds move.

And oft at midnight's stillest hour,

When summer-seas the vessel lave, I love to prove my charmful power,

While floating on the moon-light wave:
And when deep sleep the crew has bound,

And the sad lover musing leans
O'er the ship's side, I breathe around,

Such strains as speak no mortal means.

Sometimes a single note I swell,

That softly sweet at distance dies ; Then wake the magic of my shell,

When choral voices round me rise:
The trembling youth, charm'd by my strain,
Calls

up
the
crew,

who silent bend O'er the high deck, but list in vain,

My song is hushd, my wonders end.

SONG LXXXIX.

Nor blazing gems, nor silken sheen,
Bespeak the wearer's heart serene ;
Nor purple robe, nor tissued vest,
Proclaim the calm unruffled breast.
The crimson mantle, and the jewell’d crown,
Fair peace forsakes, well pleas’d to own
The shepherd's simple garb and russet gown.
Sweet Peace forsakes the crowded street,
And shelters in the calm retreat ;
With solitude the charmer dwells,
Midst rural meads, and flowery dells
She shuns the costly feast, and rare,
Contented with the shepherd's fare ;
She scorns the roofs where nobles dwell,
And seeks the rustic's humbler cell ;
She slights the miser's glittering hoard,
The joys of wine, and plenteous board :
Fair Virtue's livery she wears,
And all the joys of life are her's.

SONG XC.

Life's like a ship, in constant motion,

Sometimes high, and sometimes low; Where every one must brave the ocean,

Whatsoever wind may blow : If unassail'd by squall or show'r,

Wafted by the gentle gales; Let's not lose the fav'ring hour,

While success attends the sails.

Or if the wayward winds should bluster,

Let us not give way to fear ;
But let us all our patience muster,

And learn from Reason how to steer :
Let judgment keep you ever steady,

'Tis a ballast never fails ;
Should dangers rise, be ever ready

To manage well the swelling sails.

Trust not too much your own opinion,

While your vessel's under way ;
Let good example bear dominion,

That's a compass will not stray :
When thund'ring tempests make you shudder,

Or Boreas on the surface rails;
Let good Discretion guide the rudder,

And Providence attend the sails.

Then, when you're safe from danger, riding

In some welcome port or bay ;
Hope be the anchor you confide in,

And Care awhile enslumber'd lay :
Or when each can's with liquor flowing,

And good fellowship prevails;
Let each true heart, with rapture glowing,
Drink •

success unto our sails.'*

[This excellent nautical song is taken from the poetry of various glees, &c. performed at the society of Harmonists, and printed for presentation to the members only, in the year 1798, at the expence of Mr. George Fryer. 118 ingenious author is not named.]