Page images

Eight hundred of the brave,

Whose courage well was tried,
Had made the vessel heel,

And laid her on her side.
A land-breeze shook the shrouds,

And she was overset;
Down went the Royal George,

With all her crew complete.

Toll for the brave !

Brave Kempenfelt is gone;
His last sea-fight is fought;

His work of glory done.
It was not in the battle;

No tempest gave the shock;
She sprang no fatal leak;

She ran upon no rock.

His sword was in its sheath;

His fingers held the pen
When Kempenfelt went down

With twice four hundred men.

Weigh the vessel up,

Once dreaded by our foes !
And mingle with our cup

The tear that England owes.
Her timbers yet are sound

And she may float again,
Full charged with England's thunder,

And plough the distant main.
But Kempenfelt is gone,

His victories are o'er;
And he and his eight hundred

Shall plough the wave no more.



PLANGIMUS fortes. Periêre fortes,
Patrium propter periêre littus
Bis quater centum, subito sub alto

Æquore mersi.


Navis innitens lateri jacebat,
Malus ad summas trepidabat undas,
Cum levis, funes quatiens, ad imum

Depulit aura.
Plangimus fortes. Nimis, heu, caducam
Fortibus vitam voluêre parcæ,
Nec sinunt ultra tibi nos recentes

Nectere laurus,
Magne, qui nomen, licet incanorum,
Traditum ex multis atavis tulisti !
At tuos olim memorabit ævum

Omne triumphos.
Non hyems illos furibunda mersit,
Non mari in clauso scopuli latentes,
Fissa non rimis abies, nec atrox

Abstulit ensis.
Navitæ sed tum nimium jocosi
Voce fallebant hilari laborem,
Et quiescebat, calamoque dextram im-

pleverat heros.
Vos, quibus cordi est grave opus piumque,
Humidum ex alto spolium levate,
Et putrescentes sub aquis amicos

Reddite amicis !
Hi quidem (sic dis placuit) fuêre :
Sed ratis, nondum putris, ire possit
Rursus in bellum, Britonumque nomen

Tollere ad astra.


AIR—“ My fond Shepherds of late” No longer I follow a sound;

No longer a dream I pursue; Oh Happiness ! not to be found,

Unattainable treasure, adieu ! I have sought thee in splendour and dress,

In the regions of pleasure and taste; I have sought thee, and seemed to possess,

But have proved thee a vision at last.

An humble ambition and hope

The voice of true wisdom inspires ; 'Tis sufficient, if Peace be the scope

And the summit of all our desires.

Peace may be the lot of the mind

That seeks it in meekness and love; But rapture and bliss are confined

To the glorified spirits above.

[ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small]


An Excellent New Song to a Tune never sung before

I sing of a journey to Clifton

We would have performed if we could,
Without cart or barrow to lift on
Poor Mary and me through the mud.

Slee sla slud,

Stuck in the mud,
Oh it is pretty to wade through a flood !

So away we went, slipping and sliding,

Hop, hop, à la mode de deux frogs,
'Tis near as good walking as riding
When ladies are dressed in their clogs.

Wheels, no doubt,

Go briskly about, But they clatter and rattle and make such a rout!

[ocr errors]

“Well! now I protest it is charming ;

How finely the weather improves !
That cloud, though, is rather alarming,

How slowly and stately it moves!”


“Pshaw! never mind,

'Tis not in the wind, We are travelling south and shall leave it behind.”

I am glad we are come for an airing,

For folks may be pounded and penned,
Until they grow rusty, not caring

To stir half a mile to an end."


“The longer we stay,

The longer we may;
It's a folly to think about weather or way.”


“ But now I begin to be frighted ;

If I fall, what a way I should roll !
I am glad that the bridge was indicted,

Stop! stop! I am sunk in a hole!”


“Nay, never care !

'Tis a common affair; You'll not be the last that will set a foot there.”

“Let me breathe now a little, and ponder

On what it were better to do;
That terrible lane I see yonder,

I think we shall never get through."

“So think I :-

But, by the bye,
We never shall know if we never should try.”


“But should we get there, how shall we get home ?

What a terrible deal of bad road we have past !
Slipping and sliding; and if we should come
To a difficult stile, I am ruined at last!

O this lane !

Now it is plain
That struggling and striving is labour in vain.”

“Stick fast there while I go and look


« PreviousContinue »