Thee, haughty tyrants ne'er fhall tame; Rule, Britannia, &c. To thee belongs the rural reign, Thy cities fhall with commerce shine : All thine fhall be the fubject main, Rule, Britannia, &c. The mufes ftill, with freedom found, Rule, Britannia, &c. SONG 226. WITH early horn, falute the morn, That gilds this charming place; The vocal hills around, 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 Unheedful of their plaintive notes I fang across the mead ; In vain they tan'd their downy throats, As. paffing through the tufted grove, 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, I'll never forfake it 'till I overtake it, My brave boys, &c. When the evening does come, content I fit down, For, Hymen and Love have firmly decreed, Then, ye wand'rers! attend, give o'er your purfuits, 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 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 That love was all, I afk'd on earth; Ab Gramachree, & c. Oh had all the flocks that graze Or low'd for me the num'rous herds With her I love I'd gladly share Ah Gramachree, &c. Two turtle-doves above my head 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, Whilft life remains in Strephon's heart, Tho' thou art falfe, may heav'n on thee Ab Gramachree, &c. |