Love, like spring-tides full and high,
Swells in every youthful vein ;
But each tide does less supply,
Till they quite shrink in again :
If a flow in age appear,

'Tis but rain, and runs not clear.

Tyrannic Love.

THE SEA FIGHT

WHO ever saw a noble sight,

That never viewed a brave sea-fight!
Hang up your bloody colours in the air,

Up with your lights, and your nettings prepare,
Your merry mates cheer with a lusty bold spright,
Now each man his brindice, and then to the fight.
St. George! St. George! we cry,

The shouting Turks reply.

Oh now it begins, and the gun-room grows hot,
Ply it with culverin and with small shot;

Hark, does it not thunder? no, 'tis the gun's roar
The neighbouring billows are turned into gore;

Now each man must resolve to die,

For here the coward cannot fly.

Drums and trumpets toll the knell,

And culverins the passing bell.

Now, now they grapple, and now board amain;
Blow up the hatches, they're off all again :
Give them a broadside, the dice run at all,
Down comes the mast, and yard and tacklings fall
She grows giddy now, like blind Fortune's wheel,
She sinks there, she sinks, she turns up her keel.
Who ever beheld so noble a sight,

As this so brave, so bloody sea-fight!

Amboyna.

NEREIDS RISING FROM THE SEA

FROM the low palace of old father Ocean,
Come we in pity our cares to deplore;
Sea-racing dolphins are trained for our motion,
Moony tides swelling to roll us ashore.

Every nymph of the flood, her tresses rending,
Throws off her armlet of pearl in the main ;
Neptune in anguish his charge unattending,
Vessels are foundering, and vows are in vain.

Albion and Albanus.

HARVEST HOME

YOUR hay it is mowed, and your corn is reaped : Your barns will be full, and your hovels heaped : Come, my boys, come :

Come, my boys, come;

And merrily roar out harvest home!

Harvest home,

Harvest home;

And merrily roar out harvest home!

We have cheated the parson, we'll cheat him again, For why should a blockhead have one in ten ?

One in ten,

One in ten ;

For why should a blockhead have one in ten?

For prating so long like a book-learned sot,
Till pudding and dumpling burn to pot,
Burn to pot,

Burn to pot;

Till pudding and dumpling burn to pot.

We'll toss off our ale till we cannot stand :
And hoigh for the honour of Old England:
Old England,

Old England;

And hoigh for the honour of Old England.

FIDELITY

King Arthur.

No, no, poor suffering heart, no change endeavour,
Choose to sustain the smart, rather than leave her;
My ravished eyes behold such charms about her,
I can die with her, but not live without her;
One tender sigh of hers to see me languish,
Will more than pay the price of my past anguish ;
Beware, O cruel Fair, how you smile on me,
'Twas a kind look of yours that has undone me.

Love has in store for me one happy minute,
And she will end my pain who did begin it ;
Then no day void of bliss, of pleasure, leaving,
Ages shall slide away without perceiving :

Cupid shall guard the door, the more to please us, And keep out Time and Death, when they would seize us;

Time and Death shall depart, and say, in flying, Love has found out a way to live by dying.

Cleomenes.

THE TYRANT JEALOUSY

WHAT state of life can be so blest
As love, that warms a lover's breast?
Two souls in one, the same desire
To grant the bliss, and to require!
But if in heaven a hell we find,
'Tis all from thee,

O Jealousy!

'Tis all from thee,

Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealousy,
Thou tyrant of the mind!

All other ills, though sharp they prove,
Serve to refine, and perfect love;
In absence or unkind disdain

Sweet hope relieves the lover's pain.
But ah! no cure but death we find,
To set us free

From Jealousy :

O Jealousy!

Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealousy,

Thou tyrant of the mind!

False in thy glass all objects are,
Some set too near, and some too far;
Thou art the fire of endless night,
The fire that burns and gives no light.
All torments of the damned we find
In only thee,

O Jealousy!

Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealousy,

Thou tyrant of the mind!

Love Triumphant.

THE SONG OF DIANA

WITH horns and with hounds I waken the day,
And hie to the woodland-walks away;

I tuck up my robe, and am buskined soon,
And tie to my forehead a wexing moon."

*

I course the fleet stag, unkennel the fox,
And chase the wild goats o'er summits of rocks;
With shouting and hooting we pierce throughthe sky,
And Echo turns hunter, and doubles the cry.

The Secular Masque.

• Waxing.

BEAUTY NO ARMOUR AGAINST LOVE

LADIES, though to your conquering eyes
Love owes his chiefest victories,

And borrows those bright arms from you
With which he does the world subdue,
Yet you yourselves are not above
The empire, nor the griefs, of love.

Then wrack not lovers with disdain,
Lest love on you revenge their pain;
You are not free because you're fair;
The Boy did not his Mother spare.
Beauty's but an offensive dart;
It is no armour for the heart.

Love in a Tub.