'Till cruel chance at length reveal'd
The passion they so long conceal'd,
And William lost his dear.

A friendly voice poor William hail'd,
A ruffian gang the youth assail'd,
'Twas done by cursed gold;
The tender in the offing stood,

The cutter skimm'd the yielding flood,
They hatch'd him in the hold.

She troubled walk'd the beach in haste,
And troubled look'd the wat'ry waste,
And by the floating wave,

A corps was wash'd upon the shore,
'Twas William! and with tears they bore
Two lovers to the grave.

POOR JACK.

BO, patter to lubbers, and swabs, d'ye see, 'Bout danger, and fear, and the like:

A tight water-boat, and good sea-room give me, And 'tant to a little I'll strike.

Tho' the tempest top-gallant-mast smack smooth should smite,

And shiver each splinter of wood,

Clear the wreck, stow the yards, and bowse every thing tight,

And under reef'd foresail we'll scud.

Avast, nor don't think me a milk-sop so soft,
To be taken for trifles a-back;

For they say, there's a Providence sits up aloft,
To keep watch for the life of Poor Jack.

Why, I heard the good chaplain palaver one day,
About souls, heaven, mercy, and such;
And my timbers, what lingo he'd coil and belay!
Why, 'twas all one to me as high Dutch.
But said he how a sparrow can't founder d'ye see,

Without orders that come down below, And many fine things that prov'd clearly to me, That Providence takes us in tow;

For, says he, do you mind me, let storms e'er so oft,

Take the top-sails of sailors a-back;

There's a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft,
To keep watch for the life of Poor Jack.,

I said to our Poll (for d'ye see she would cry)
When last we weigh'd anchor for sea,

What argufies sniv'ling, and piping your eye?
Why, what a damn'd fool you must be!
Can't you see the world's wide and there's room for
us all,

Both for seamen and lubbers ashore ;

And if to old Davy I should go, my dear Poll,
Why you never will hear of me more.

What then! all's a hazard-come don't be so soft;
Perhaps I may laughing come back;

For, d'ye see, there's a cherub sits smiling aloft,
To keep watch for the life of Poor Jack.

D'ye mind me, a sailor should be ev'ry inch
All as one as a piece of his ship;

And with her brave the world, without off'ring to

flinch,

From the moment the anchor's a-trip.

As for me, in all weathers, all times, sides, and ends,

Nought's a trouble from duty that springs;

For my heart is my Poll's,and my rhino's my friend's And as for my life 'tis the king's :

E'en when my time comes, ne'er believe me so soft, As with grief to be taken a-back;

That same little cherub that sits up aloft,

Will look out a good birth for Poor Jack,

PLL DIE FOR NO SHEPHERD NOT I. WHEN first on the plain I began to appear, And the shepherds to ogle and sigh,

They call'd me their dear, their delight, and their joy,

But I heed no such nonsense, not I.

Not all their fine words, their flattery and love,
Tho' they swore if I frown'd they should die,
Could bring me to like, to love, or approve,
For I heed no such nonsense, not I.

But now in my turn I'm in love too, I find,
Tho' believe I for grief should not die,
Were Jemmy as false as the wav'ring wind,
OI heed no such nonsense, not I.

I think the lad likes me, and he may prove true;
And if so, I will love till I die:

But if he proves fickle, then I'll prove so too;
O I'll die for no Shepherd, not I.

A NEW BACCHANALIAN SONG.

YE sons of Bacchus, who know no controul,
Be attentive a while to my song;

For Jove's sake don't flinch while we've got a full bowl,

For to death we must yield-e'er 'tis long.

So let us drink t'other bumper, my boys!
A bumper by Jove! we will have;

We'll drink bumpers the rest of our days,
Since a drop can't be had in the grave.

Since we are descendants of Bacchus, my boys!
Let's be drinking the rest of our time l

For certain it is, if we follow his ways,
We shall never commit the least crime.

So let's drink, &c.

Silenus (our father's companion) they say,
Was a free-hearted merry old trunk;
'Twas known he would ride on an ass ev'ry day,
And every day would be drunk.

So let's drink, &c.

The first that despises Old Bacchus' right,
Like Pentheus, shall in pieces be torn;

But he who maintains them, and for them will fight,
Shall never be counted forlorn!

So let's drink, &c.

A NEW SONG.

AH, Delia! dear maid of my heart!
The trial at length is arriv'd,
When we from each other must part,
Must be of each other depriv'd.

How can I your absence endure?
I call in philosophy's aid,
To soften what nothing can cure,

The wound which thy absence has made.

I'll fly to my love's rosy bow'r,

Where so oft I have gaz'd on thy charms, And say to each lazy pac'd hour,

"Haste! haste! bring her back to my arms.'

There will I, my fair one, on you

The blessing of heaven implore;

Adieu! dearest Delia, adieu!

My heart is too full to say more.

***

THE SOCIAL BOARD.

POLITICIANS may ponder the juggles of state, Or the miser with care view his ill-gotten hoard; The astrologer muse on the changes of fate,

But bumpers we'll drink at the social Board. The Physician may talk of his draught and his pill, Of the good that they do, and relief they afford, But the draughts that we all know will never do ill, Are the Bumpers we drink at the social Board. The Lawyer may prate of his actions and pleas, The Soldier may brag of deeds done by his sword, At the bottom you'll find, though, there nothing can please

Like the Bumpers we drink at the Social Board. Search o'er the wide globe, you'll experience this truth,

Acknowledg'd by most, from the clown to the lord,

All degrees and professions, the aged and youth,, Love the bumpers we drink at the Social Board. Now let us enjoy all the moments that pass,

And never let çare in our bosoms be stor'd; Ev'ry member then cheerfully take up his glass, And each drink success to the Social Board.

THE MAIDEN'S DREAM.

ONE night extended on my downy bed,
Melting in am'rous dreams, altho' a maid;
My active thoughts presented to my view
A youth undress'd, whose charming face I knew.
Stripp'd to his shirt, he sprang to me in white,
Like a kind Bridegroom on the nuptial night.
And tho' his linen dress ghost-like appear'd,
He look'd, alas! too harmless to be fear'd;
His wishful eyes, express'd his eager love,
And twinkled like the brightest stars above;