To serve our English gallantry When the stormy winds do blow. We sometimes sail to the Indies Then we sweep o'er the deep, When the stormy winds do blow. When tempests are blown over, And waves do furious grow, Then we rouse, up we rouse, If enemies oppose us, When England is at wars With any foreign nations, We fear not wounds nor scars ; Our roaring guns shall teach 'em When the stormy winds do blow. We are no cowardly shrinkers, We'll play our parts, like valiant hearts, Where'er we come or go, When the stormy winds do blow. Then, courage! all brave mariners, When the stormy winds do blow. When we return in safety, With wages for our pains, Will help to share our gains; When the stormy winds do blow. * [Thus morally amended in Mr. Plumptre's edition : Our wives and friends and sweethearts Will help to share our gains; Laid up for life securely, To Providence we'll show What we feel for our weal, When the stormy winds did blow.] 0. SONG XXXVIII. BY DR. GOLDSMITH.* THE wretch condemn'd with life to part, And every pang that rends the heart, Hope, like the glimmering taper's light, And still, as darker grows the night, SONG XXXIX. BY THE SAME. O MEMORY! thou fond deceiver, To former joys recurring ever, Thou, like the world, th' opprest oppressing, Thy smiles increase the wretch's woe! And he who wants each other blessing, In thee must ever find a foe. * In the oratorio of the 'Captivity.' SONG XL.* GENTLY stir, and blow the fire, In the dripping put a toast, On the dresser see it lie, Oh! the charming white and red! On the sweetest grass it fed : Let the jack go swiftly round, Let me have it nicely brown'd. On the table spread the cloth, Let the knives be sharp and clean : Let them each be fresh and green: * A sort of parody on some verses by A. Bradley, beginning thus : Gently strike the warbling lyre, Chloe seems inclin❜d to rest; Soothe her soul to soft desire, Softest sounds will suit her best, &c. SONG XLI. THE POWER OF MUSIC. (Imitated from the Spanish.*) BY DR. LISLE. WHEN Orpheus went down to the regions below, He tun'd up his lyre, as old histories show, All hell was astonish'd a person so wise And venture so far-but how vast their surprise! To find out a punishment due to his fault, But hell had not torments sufficient he thought, But pity succeeding found place in his heart, [An answer to this has been written in the way of echo, and in defence of the fair-sex, whom the Spanish author treated with such libellous sarcasm.] |