Thee, haughty tyrants ne'er fhall tame;
All their attempts to bend thee down
Will but aroufe thy gen'rous flame,
But work their woe, and thy renown.

Rule, Britannia, &c.

To thee belongs the rural reign,

Thy cities fhall with commerce shine :

All thine fhall be the fubject main,
And ev'ry fhore it circles thine.

Rule, Britannia, &c.

The mufes ftill, with freedom found,
Shall to thy happy coafts repair :
Bleft ifle with matchlefs beauty crown'd,
And manly hearts to guard the fair!

Rule, Britannia, &c.

SONG 226.

WITH early horn, falute the morn,

That gilds this charming place;
With chearful cries, bid echo rise,
And join the jovial chace,

The vocal hills around,
The waving woods,

The chrystal floods,

All return th' enliv'ning found.

SONG 227.

THE LINNET S.

As bringing home the other day.

S

Two linnets I had ta'en,

The pretty warblers feem'd to pray
For liberty again.

Unheedful of their plaintive notes

I fang across the mead ;

In vain they tan'd their downy throats,
And flutter'd to be freed.

As. paffing through the tufted grove,
Near which my cottage flood,
I thought I faw the Queen of Love,
When Chlora's charms I view'd.
I gaz'd, I lov'd, I prefs'd her ftay
To hear my tender tale ;

But all in vain the filed away,

Nor could my fighs prevail.

Soon through the wound which love had made

Came pity to my breast;

And thus I, as compaffion bade,

The feather'd pair addrefs'd : Ye little warblers, chearful be, Remember not ye flew ;

For I, who thought my felf fo free,

Am far more caught than you..

SONG 228.

CONTENTED I am, and contented I'll be ;

What can this vain world more afford, Than a wife to my mind, that prefers none to me, And contentment, though small be my ftore, My brave boys?

And contentment, though small be my ftore.

In the morning I rife, and then toil all the day,
And hath happinefs ftill in my view;

I'll never forfake it 'till I overtake it,
So eagerly I will it pursue,

My brave boys, &c.

When the evening does come, content I fit down,
Nor e'er do I wish for to roam ;

For, Hymen and Love have firmly decreed,
That true pleasure's found always at home,
My brave boys, &c.

Then, ye wand'rers! attend, give o'er your purfuits,
They'll ever prove falfe, you will find;

Seek pleasure at home, and your wife, if she's wife, Will always be loving and kind,

My brave boys, &c.

A s

SONG 229.

GRAMACH REE.

S down on Banna's banks I ftray'd, One evening in May,

The little birds in blytheft notes

Made vocal ev'ry fpray :

They fung their little tales of love,

They fung them o'er and o'er,

Ah Gramachree, ma Colleenoughe, ma Molly Afhtore!

The daify pied, and all the fweets
The dawn of nature yields;
The primrose pale, the vi’let blue,
Lay fcatter'd o'er the fields:
Such fragrance in the bofom lies

Of her whom 1 adore.

Ab Gramachree, &c.

I laid me down upon a bank,

Bewailing my fad fate,

That doom'd me thus the flave of love

And cruel Molly's hate:

How can fhe break the honeft heart

That wears her in its core ?

Ab Gramachree, &c.

You faid you lov'd me, Molly dear ;

Ah! why did I believe?

Yet who could think fuch tender words
Were meant but to deceive?

That love was all, I afk'd on earth;
Nay, heav'n could give no more.

Ab Gramachree, & c.

Oh had all the flocks that graze
On yonder yellow hill,

Or low'd for me the num'rous herds
That yon green pasture fill;

With her I love I'd gladly share
My kine and fleecy ftore.

Ah Gramachree, &c.

Two turtle-doves above my head
Sat courting on a bough;
I envied not their happiness,

To fee them bill and coo:

Such fondnefs once for me fhe fhew'd;

But now, alas! 'tis o'er.

'Ah Gramachree, &c.

Then fare thee well, my Mally dear,
Thy lofs I e'er shall mourn;

Whilft life remains in Strephon's heart,
'Twill beat for thee alone:

Tho' thou art falfe, may heav'n on thee
Its choiceft bleffings pour !

Ab Gramachree, &c.