« AnteriorContinuar »
Close your ranks, and each brave soul
The empire's brave defender;
Of the second Alexander.
Mahomet was a sober dog,
To forbid to those adore him ;
And conquer'd all before him.
With dull tea they fought in vain,
Success must needs attend him. Our brains (like our cannons) warm, With often-firing feels no harm, While the sober sot flies the alarm,
No lawrel can befriend him.
Christians thus with conquest crown'd, Conquest with the glass goes round, Weak coffee can't keep its ground
Against the force of claret :
Whilst we give them thus the foil,
And in brisk nectar share it.
Infidels are now o'ercome,
But all his hopes are shallow,
He's a whig that will not follow.
THE YOUNG SEAMAN’S MISFORTUNE: OR, THE
FALSE-HEARTED LASS OF LIMEHOUSE.
From the Pepys Collection, and reprinted by Evans (Old Ballads,
edit. 1810, vol. i. p. 213).
You loyal lovers far and near,
That live and reign in Cupid's court,
While I my sorrows do report:
In her I plac'd my chief delight,
And was her captive night and day; For why? her charming beauty bright
Had clearly stole my heart away:
On board of ship I chanc'd to go,
To serve our good and gracious king : Now when she found it must be so,
She did her hands in sorrow wring,
My dearest love, she often cry’d,
Forbear to sail the ocean sea; If fortune shall us now divide,
Alas! what will become of me? This she repeated ten times o'er !I'll never trust a woman more.
A thousand solemn vows I made,
And she return'd the like again, That no one should our hearts invade,
But both in loyal love remain ;
I was obliged to leave the land,
And ready to go hoist up sail, At which tears in her
And bitterly she did bewail ; Yet she another had in store ! I'll never trust a woman more.
I gave her then a ring of gold,
To keep in token of true love,
I evermore will loyal prove.
Five months I ploughed the ocean main,
With courage void of dread and fear: At length with joy return'd again
To the embraces of my dear. But she another had in store !
I'll never trust a woman more.
Constancy doth torture me,
And make my sorrows most severe;
For why? I did the tydings hear
Now must I wander in despair,
I find it is the fates' decree;
I can love none alive but she :
THE GALLANT SEAMAN'S RETURN FROM THE INDIES: OR THE HAPPY MEETING OF
TWO FAITHFUL LOVERS.
WHEREIN IS SHEWED THE LOYAL CONSTANCY OF A SEAMAN TO HIS LOVE, WITH HER KIND SALUTATION UNTO HIM
FOR HIS WELCOME HOME.
Observe this song, which is both neat and pretty,
[From the Bagford Collection of Old Ballads.]
I am a stout seaman and newly come on shore,
I have been absent from her full many a day,
Now I am intended, whatever betide,
THE GALLANT SEAMAN'S SONG AT HIS MEETING OF
Well met, pretty Betty, my joy and my dear,