THEN farewell, my trim-built wherry,
Oars and coat, and badge, farewell;
Never more at Chelsea ferry

Shall your Thomas take a spell.

But to hope and peace a stranger,
In the battle's heat I'll go ;
Where, expos'd to ev'ry danger,

Some friendly ball will lay me low.

Then mayhap, when homeward steering
With the news my messmates come,
Even you, my story hearing,

With a sigh, may cry-poor Tom.


THE kiss, dear maid, thy lips have left,
Shall never part from mine,

Till happier hours restore the gift
Untainted back to thine.

The parting glance that fondly gleams,
An equal love may see,

The tear that from the eyelid streams
Can weep no change in me.

The kiss, &c.

I ask no pledge to make me blest,
In gazing when alone;
Nor one memorial for a breast,
Whose thoughts are all thine own.
By day or night, in weal or woe,
That heart no longer free,

Must bear the love it cannot show,

And silent ache for thee.

The kiss, &c.


My ship's my house, my home, my land,
My family not few;

My children those whom I command,
A bold and jolly crew;
And while together thus we sail,
Britons, united, must prevail.

For treasure, I've my seamen's love,
And if the foe intends

To venture forth, he soon may prove,
The value of such friends,
For while, together, thus we sail,
Britons, united, must prevail.


MARY, I believed thee true,

And I was blest in thus believing;
But now I mourn that e'er I knew
A girl so fair and so deceiving.
Few have ever loved like me ;

Oh! I have loved thee too sincerely!
And few have e'er deceived like thee,
Alas! deceived me too severely.

Fare thee well! yet think awhile

On one whose bosom bleeds to doubt thee; Who now would rather trust that smile,

And die with thee than live without thee.

Fare thee well! I'll think on thee,

Thou leav'st me many a bitter token;

For see, distracting woman, see

My peace is gone, my heart is broken.


WHEN in the storm on Albion's coast,
The night-watch guards his wary post,
From thoughts of danger free,
He marks some vessel's dusky form,
And hears, amid the howling storm,
The minute gun at sea.

Swift on the shore a hardy few
The life-boat man with gallant crew,
And dare the dangerous wave:
Through the wild surf they cleave their way,
Lost in the foam, nor know dismay,

For they go the crew to save.

But, oh! what rapture fills each breast
Of the hopeless crew of the ship distress'd!
Then, landed safe, what joy to tell

Of all the dangers that befell:

Then heard is no more,

By the watch on the shore,

The minute gun at sea.


WHEN Vulcan forg'd the bolts of Jove,
In Ætna's roaring glow,
Neptune petition'd he might prove
Their use and pow'r below;

But finding in the boundless deep,
Such thunders would but idly sleep,
He with them arm'd Britannia's hand,
To guard from foes her native land.

Long may she hold the awful right,
And when thro' circling flame,
She darts her vengeance in the fight,
May justice guide her aim!

While if assail'd in future wars,
Her soldiers brave and gallant Tars,
Shall launch her fires from every hand,
On ev'ry foe to Britain's land.


I SAW thee weep-the big bright tear
Came o'er that eye of blue;
And then methought it did appear
A violet dropping dew:

I saw thee smile the sapphire's blaze
Beside thee ceas'd to shine;

It could not match the living rays
That fill'd that glance of thine.

As clouds from yonder sun receive
A deep and mellow dye,
Which scarce the shade of coming eve
Can banish from the sky,

Those smiles unto the moodiest mind
Their own pure joy impart ;
Their sunshine leaves a glow behind,
That lightens o'er the heart.


PALE faces stand by,

And our bright ones adore;

We look like our wine,

You worse than our score.

Come, light up your pimples,
All art we outshine;

When the plump god doth paint,
Each streak is divine.

Clean glasses are pencils,
Old claret is oil;

He that sits for his picture,
Must sit a good while.

WHEN WE DWELL ON THE LIPS. WHEN We dwell on the lips of the lass we adore, Not a pleasure in nature is missing;

May his soul rest in heaven! he deserves it, I'm sure,
Who was first the inventor of kissing.

Master Adam, I verily think was the man,
Whose discovery will ne'er be surpass'd,
Then since this sweet game with creation began,
To the end of the world may it last.


PROUD Woman I scorn you, brisk wine's my delight,
I'll drink all the day and I'll revel all night:
As great as a monarch the moments I'll pass,
The bottle my globe, and the sceptre my glass.
The tables my throne, and tavern my court,
The drawers my subjects, and drinking my sport.
Here's the queen of all joy, here's a mistress ne'er coy,
Dear cure of all sorrows, and life of all bliss,

I'm a king when I hug you, much more when I kiss


LOVE wakes and weeps,
While Beauty sleeps!

O for Music's softest numbers!

To prompt a theme

For Beauty's dream,

Soft as the pillow of her slumbers.

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