May the voyage of Life,

Free from tempest and strife, Prove as calın as a smooth water coasting. But should some sudden squall, incidental to all

Rouse up reason to reef ev'ry sail, boys, Be your's and my lot to have such a pilot

When passion increases the gale, boys.

2
For to what point soe'er

Of the compass we steer,
While the helm still obeys her direction,

'Tis as sure as the light

That the joys of the night Will ne'er shrink from the morning's reflection. And when rest or refreshment succeeds work

or play, That enjoyment from each it may still flow, May true Friendship's hand lead us on by the

way, And true Love share the rest of our pillow.

3

But, blow high, or blow low,

Let it rain, freeze, or snow,
And clay-cold and wet should our birth be,

The lamb newly shorn

Shews the blast may be borne, Should our station on sea or on earth be :

And, as poor Robin Red-breast will chirp on

the spray,

Almost stripp'd by the frost of each feather, May a Conscience as clear as the sun at noon

day
Keep us warm in the coldest of weather.

VII.

MIRTII.
A Glee for four voices : by Paxton.

WRITTEN BY DR. SCOTT.

Come, oh come, delightful guest !

Child of tranquil ease and pleasure; Ever blessing, ever blest,

Here diffuse thy choicest treasure. Come, sweet Mirth, and bring with thee, Sportive Song and merry glee; But ah, sweet maid, all playful tricks remove,

Let no offensive sounds invade the ear, But such as bashful Beauty may approve,

And Modesty, without a blush, can hear. Then this blooming radiant throng,

Shall applaud thy festive measures; Darting joyous smiles along,

Giving and receiving pleasures : What sweet raptures fire the mind When beauty's charms, and music are combin'd!

VIII.

THE SHORTNESS OF LIFE.

ALTERED FROM A DUET.

1 Could a Man be secure That his life would endure,

As of old for a thousand long year,
What arts might he know,
What acts might he do,
And all without hurry or care.

2
But, as we have but span-long lives,

The more we'll call each hour a treasure; And, since Time will not stay, We'll seize upon the present day,

And with good deeds will fill the measure.

IX. A DEHORTATION FROM DRINKING,

BY A LATE EMINENT PHYSICIAN.

From the London Magazine for September 1746.

1 Pass by a tavern door, my son,

This sacred truth write on thy heart; 'Tis easier company to shun,

Than at a pint it is to part.

2 For one pint draws another in,

And that pint lights a pipe; And thus, in th' morn, they tap the day,

And drink it out e'er night,

3 Not dreaming of a sudden bounce,

From vinous sulphurs stor'd within; Which blows a drunkard up at once,

When the fire takes life's magazine.

4

An apoplexy kills as sure

As cannon ball; and oft as soon; And will no more yield to a cure,

Than murdering chain-shot from a gun.

5

Why should men dread a cannon bore,

Yet boldly face a pottle pot? That may fall short, shoot wide, or o'er,

But drinking is the surer shot.

6 How many fools about this town,

Do quaff and laugh away their time? And nightly knock each other down,

With Claret clubs of no-grape wine!

7
Until a dart from Death's full quiver,

As Solomon describeth right,
Does shoot bis Tartar thro' the liver,
Then (bonos nocios) sot, good night.

8
Good wine will kill, as well as bad,

When drunk beyond our nature's bounds;
Then wine gies life a mortal stab,

And leaves her welt'ring in her wounds.

Such were the rules old BAYNARD gave

To one with whom he could be free;
Better you'll from no doctor have,

Besides—they come without a fee.

ANTI-ANACREONTIC.

X.

SAY! what are the pleasures which Wine can

impart? Can it pluck out the Arrows of Scorn from the

heart? Erase from the bosom the Image of Care? Or furnish a balm for the Soul of Despair?