At three o'clock nine mighty ships had struck their colours

proud, And two brave admirals at his feet their vanquish'd flags

had bow'd: Our Duncan's tow'ring colours stream'd all honour to the

laf, For in the battles fiercest rage, he nailed them to the mast;

Our Duncan's towering colours, &c.

The victory was now complete; the cannon ceas’d to roar; The scatter'd remnants of the foe slunk to their native shore; No power the pride of conquest had his heart to lead astray, He summoned his triumphant crew, and thus was heard to fay,

CHORUS. "Let every man now bend the knee, and here in folemn

pray'r, «Give thanks to God, who in this fight has made our caufe

his care,"

Then on the deck, the noble field of that proud day's renown, Brave Duncan with his crew devout before their God knelt

down, And humbly blefs’d his providence, and hail'd his guardian

power, Who valour, strength, and skill inspir'd in that dread battle's

hour.

And humbly bless’d, &c.

The captive Dutch this solemn scene survey'd with silent

awe,

And rue'd the day when Holland join'd to France's impious

And mark’d, how virtue, courage, faith unite to form this

land, For victory, for fame, and power, just rule, and high com

mand.

And niark'd, &c.

The Venerable was the ship, that bore his flag to fame,
Our veteran hero well becomes his gallant veffel's name,
Behold his locks! they speak the toil of many a stormy day;
For fifty years and more, my boys, has fighting been his way.

GRAND CHORUS.

Behold his locks! they speak the toil of many a formy day,
For fifty years and more, my boys, has fighting been his way;
The Venerable was the ship that bore his fiag to fame,
And venerable ever be our vet'ran Duncan's name!

DUNCAN GRAY.

DY R. BURNS.

DUNCAN Gray came here to woo, ha, ha, the wooing o'i, On new-year’s day when we were fou, ha, ha, the wooing o't;

Maggie cooft her head fu' high,

Look'd asklent and unco skiegh
Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh, ha, ha, the wooing o't.

Duncan fleech'd, and Duncan pray'd, ha, ha, the wooing o't, Meg was deaf as Chelsea craigs, ha, ha, the wooing o't;

Duncan figh'd baith out and in,

Grat his een baith blear'd and blin,
Spak' o' laying o'er a lin, ha, ha; the wooing o't.

Time and chance are but a tide, ha, ha, the wooing o't, Slighted love is fair to bide, ha, ha, the wooing o't;

Shall I like a fool quoth he,

For a haughty huffy die;
She may gae to France for me, ha, ha, the wooing o't.

How it comes let dortons tell, ha, ha, the wooing o't, Meg grew sick, as he grew frail, ha, ha, the wooing o't,

Something in her bofom wrings,

For relief a sigh she brings, And oh her een they spak' lic things, ha, ha, the wooing o't.

Duncan was a lad of grace, ha, ha, the wooing o't,
Maggy's was a ticklish case, ha, ha, the wooing o't;

Duncan could not be her death,

Swelling pity smoor’d his wreath: Now, they're crouze and canty baith, ha, ha, the wooing o't.

AWAY WITH MELANCHOLY.

AWAY with melancholy, nor doleful changes ring,
On life and human folly, but merrily, merrily sing, fal la,
Come on ye rosy hours, gay smiling moments bring,
We'll strew the way with flow'rs, and merrily, merrily, sing,

fal la,

For what's the use of sighing when time is on the wing, Can we prevent his flying, then merrily, merrily, fing, fal ball

2

ON A BANK OF FLOWERS,

BY R. BURNS.

ON a bank of flowers one summer's day;

For summers lightly dress’d,
The youthful blooming Nelly lay,

With love and sleep oppress’d.
When Willy wand'ring thro' the wood,

Who for her favour oft had su’d,
He gaz'd, he wishid, he fear'd, he blush'd,

And trembl'd when he stood.

Her closed eyes, like weapons sheath'd,

Were feal'd in soft repose,
Her lips still as the fragrant breath’d,

It richer dy'd, the rofe.
The springing lillies sweetly press?d,

Wild wanton kiss'd her rival breast;
He gaz'd, he wish'd, he fear’d, he blush'd,

His bosom ill at rest.

Her robes light waving in the breeze,

Her tender limbs embrace, Her lovely form, her native eafe,

All harmony and grace.

Tumultuous tides his pulses roll,

A flatt'ring ardent kifs he stole:
He gaz'd, he wish'd, he fear'd, he blush'd,
And figh’d his very

foul.

As flies the partridge from the brake,

On fear inspired wings;
So Nelly startling half awake,

Away affrighted springs.
But Willy follow'd as he fhould,

He overtook her in the wood,
I le vow'd, he pray'd, he found the maid

Forgiving all and good.

A poor little gipfy I wander forlorn;
My fortune was told long before I was born,
So fortunes I tell as forsaken I stray,
And in search of my love I am lost on my way;

Spare a halfpenny, spare a halfpenny,
Spare a poor little gipsy, a gipsy a halfpenny,
Spare a poor little gipsy a halfpenny,