Perfum'd-painted-patch'd, and bloom- T. N. C. SONG-Mr. Pyne. Oh, give me thro' life's rugged journey, to know The joys that from friendship and confidence flow; The charm that relieves half our burthen of care, And renders each touch of enjoyment more dear. Thus lighten the load which our sorrows impart, And shed a bright ray o'er the gloom of the heart. So let me, while love in my bosom attends, Still find in my mistress, my dearest of friends! And give me the heart that with sympathy feels Each hope and each fear that my bosom reveals; The man to whose friendship my spotless DUETTO-Mr. Pyne and Mr. T. Cooke. Hark! thro' the woods the rising sound Of mellow horn, and cheerful hound! While thro' the dingle, copse, or brake, Our course in swift pursuit we take, And the huntsman's cry, As we onward fy, Is shouted by the joyous crew, Now, as perchance, our prey shall guide Then as the wolf attempts in vain, And said, of life I'd bid adieu, (Speaks). Your waist so thin, your eyes so blue, Your voice so sweet, your chin so round, Your hand so soft, your face so fair, Your teeth so white, your hair so brownYour waist, your eyes, your voice, your face, Your hand, your hair, your teeth, your skin, Your neck, your nose, your head, your heart, Your arm, your lip, your shape, your For each night, ev'ry fight Would nearly drive me mad. Often in the dead of night, Hence to the field, and the savage soon ADDRESS Spoken on the opening of the Military Bachelor's Theatre at Weltevreeden, in the Island of Batavia. Then I stammer'd, bawl'd out, roar'd out, CAN this be real? In this land of call'd out, What a fool to think of you! I stamp'd, I rav'd-my rage she brav'd, And said, you brute, I'll make you rue. In passion, rage, and spite, My under lip I bite, And then, says she, be cool, Sir, do. death, Where, tho' green meads enchant the lingering sight, Or hills romantic yield a fond delight, Yet all in vain hath Heav'n delusive blest, And 'neath each flower but lurks the hydra pest; In this fell land which Ravage claims his own, Has Mirth-has Frolic dared to raise her throne? And will she try-our sufferings to beguile To raise our sunken cheeks with transient smile? Or does she boldly down her gauntlet throw, And strive for mastery with this vaunted foe? Yes-she denies each foul aspersion cast, Java is her's,-all else was slander's blast! Health, beauty, joy, support her nascent Yet ah! one thought comes darkling o'er my brain, What should our skill, our utmost skill prove vain? Yes-now, methinks, all has not been belied; This isle is dread-there PLTO's gulf yawns wide! Within that space some demons-malemay dwell, To breathe the hiss, or try the shriller yell; That thought is death!-yet hence the groundless fear, Too well we know what generous friends are here. At insect-prey they will not dart their sting, The will excuse for faulty deed shall bring. No mighty master here with matchless skill, Shall snatch your passions when and where he will; NO SIDDONS now commands your tears to flow, With force resistless claims the deep-felt woe. Or, as she rears the gleaming sword or bowl, Appals with horror all your shudd'ring soul. Alas! far other is the art we boast, Fearful we shrink before you critic host. Feeble our hand, and conscious of our powers, To ask indulgence, not to vaunt, is our's; Nor that sued boon will you to us refuse, Whose sole, sincerest object's to amuse. That smile's enough-it cheers each anxious heart, And in receiving pleasure-pleasure you impart. HODGE AND BONEY. AS Hodge from the corn field, with back against gate Stood resting his carcase and rubbing his pate, A neighbour that instant by chance came that way, And accosted old Hodge with the news of the day: How that Bo-NE was ta'en, to HEL-ENA was going, And that France was all soldiers, and strange things a-doing. "Odzooks, my good neighbour, the thing is well done, For if ever man went there, he ought to be one. |