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Page 79 - So the sweet lark, high pois'd in air, Shuts close his pinions to his breast, (If, chance, his mate's shrill call he hear) And drops at once into her nest . The noblest Captain in the British fleet, Might envy William's lip those kisses sweet.
Page 144 - twas just all as one as High Dutch; For he said how a sparrow can't founder, d'ye see, Without orders that come down below; And a many fine things that proved clearly...
Page 80 - Though battle call me from thy arms Let not my pretty Susan mourn; Though cannons roar, yet safe from harms William shall to his Dear return. Love turns aside the balls that round me fly, Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye.
Page 124 - THE EXILE OF ERIN There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin, The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill : For his country he sighed when at twilight repairing To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill. But the day-star attracted his eye's sad devotion, For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean, Where once, in the fire of his youthful emotion, He sang the bold anthem of Erin go bragh. Sad is my fate...
Page 125 - Erin my country ! though sad and forsaken, In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore ; But alas ! in a far foreign land I awaken, And sigh for the friends who can meet me no more ! Oh cruel fate! wilt thou never replace me In a mansion of peace — where no perils can chase me?
Page 66 - Our life is but a winter's day ; Some only breakfast and away. Others to dinner stay, and are full fed ; The oldest man but sups and goes to bed. Large is his debt who lingers out the day ; Who goes the soonest, has the least to pay.
Page 94 - CEASE, rude Boreas, blustering railer ! List, ye landsmen all, to me ; Messmates, hear a brother sailor Sing the dangers of the sea ; From bounding billows, first in motion, When the distant whirlwinds rise, To the tempest-troubled ocean, Where the seas contend with skies. Hark ! the boatswain hoarsely bawling, By topsail-sheets and...
Page 100 - I'm declining, May my fate no less fortunate be Than a snug elbow-chair can afford for reclining, And a cot that o'erlooks the wide sea; With an ambling pad-pony to pace o'er the lawn, While I carol away idle sorrow, And blithe as the lark that each day hails the dawn Look forward with hope for to-morrow. With a porch at my door, both for shelter and shade too.