The Nightingale. A collection of the most elegant songs, now in vogue. : [One line of quotation]

The Nightingale. A collection of the most elegant songs, now in vogue. : [One line of quotation]

Table of contents

Title page

THE NIGHTINGALE.

ROSTIN CASTLE.

THE ANSWER.

TALLY HO.

WISDOM'S FAVORITE.

THE FLOWERS OF EDINBURGH.

BANKS OF THE DEE.

RURAL FELICITY.

MARSEILLES HYMN.

INDIAN WARRIOR.

HOLLOW DRUM.

WAY WORN TRAVELLER.

THE STORM.

FRESH AND STRONG.

BRIGHT GOD OF DAY.

HIGHLAND QUEEN.

THE FARMER.

SONG TO BACCHUS.

ST. PATRICK'S DAY.

VICAR OF BRAY.

PUSH ABOUT THE BOWL BOYS.

GREENWICH PENSIONER.

TOM BOWLING.

FRIENDSHIP.

§

PIPE OF TOBACCO.

BONNY BOY.

THE HOBBIES.

HOW IMPERFECT IS EXPRESSION.

THE SAILOR'S JOURNAL.

THE LUCKY ESCAPE.

THE WANDERER.

LADY WASHINGTON.

OLD WIDOW'S SON.

ROSE-TREE.

§

§

[Page]

[Page]

THE NIGHTINGALE.

A COLLECTION OF THE MOST ELEGANT SONGS, NOW IN VOGUE.

The charms of sweet music no pencil can paint.

SAMUEL PRESTON, AMHERST. 1797.

THE NIGHTINGALE.

[Page]

ROSTIN CASTLE.

'TWAS [...]n that season of th [...] yea [...],

When [...]ll th [...]ng [...]ay [...]d sweet [...]

That C [...]l [...] with the m [...]ni [...] ray,

Arose and su [...] [...] rural lay,

Of Nanny's ch [...]as the [...]hepher [...] sung,

The hills and [...]cs w [...] Nanny rung,

Whi [...]e Roslin C [...]tle heard the swain,

And echo'd b [...]ck [...]e cheerful strain.

Awake, sweet [...], the breathing [...].

With [...]apture warm awake and s [...]

Awake and join the v [...]al throng,

And had the morning with a song:

To N [...]ny ra [...]e the cheerful lay,

O b [...]d he [...] haste and come away,

In sweetest smile [...] [...]erself adorn.

And add new graces to the morn.

O hark, my love, on ev'ry spray,

Each feathe [...]'d warb [...]r tu [...]es his lay

'Tis beauty fires the ravish'd throng

And love inspires the melting song:

Then [...]et ravish'd [...]ote, arise,

For beauty [...]arts from Nanny's eyes,

And love [...] warms,

And [...]lls my soul with sweet alarms.

O come, my love, my Coh [...]'s lay,

Wh [...] [...]pt [...]s call, O c [...]e away.

Come, while the muse this [...]reath shall tw [...]

Around that mo [...]t bro [...] of thine

O h [...]me [...] haste [...] with the bring

T [...] beauty, bloo [...]; li [...] the spring,

[Page] Tho [...]e graces that divinely sh [...],

A [...] charm this [...]v [...]sh' [...] [...]t of mine.

THE ANSWER.

FROM Roslin Castle's echo [...]ng wa [...]'s

R [...]ds my shepherd's [...],

My Colin b [...] me come aw [...]y,

[...] demands I should obey.

[...] mo [...]g strain, and tu [...]

[...] ch [...]ms of love [...]isp [...],

[...] [...]nger can refr [...]

To own my love, and bless my [...]vain.

No longer can my heart conceal

The painful, pleasing flame I feel;

My soul retorts the [...]m [...]us strain,

And echoes back in love again.

Where [...] my songster? from [...]hat grove

Does Col [...] pour his notes of love

O [...] me to the happy bow'r,

Wh [...]e mutual love may bliss secure.

Ye vocal [...]ll, that [...] [...]ong,

Repeating, as [...] [...]ng,

To Col [...]n's ears my [...] conv [...]y,

And say I haste to co [...]e away.

Ye zep [...]y [...] [...]oft t [...]t f [...]n the [...]a [...]e,

Waft [...]o my love the so [...]thing tale;

In whisper, all my s [...]ul expr [...]s [...],

And [...], I h [...]ste his ar [...] to [...]less,

TALLY HO.

YE spo [...] s [...]en haw near and ye sports [...]ome [...].

Who [...] in the joys of the [...]e [...]d;

Ma [...]nd, though they blame, are all eage [...] [...],

And no one the contest will yield.

His lo [...]ship, his worship, his honor, his gra [...],

A [...]unting contin [...]lly go,

All ra [...]k [...] and deg [...]es [...]e a [...]e e [...]ag' [...] [...] the [...]ace,

With ha [...]k f [...]rw [...]d, [...], tally:

The lawyer wi [...]l rise w [...]th t [...] f [...]st [...] the [...],

To hunt for a [...] o [...]d,

[Page] The husband gets up, at the sound of the horn,

And rides to the commons full speed;

The patriot is thrown in pursuit of his game,

The poet, too, often lays low,

Who, mounted on Pegasus, flies after fame,

With hark forward, huzza, tally ho.

While fearless o'er hills and o'er woodlands we sweep,

Though prudes on our pastime may frown,

How oft do they decency's bounds ever leap,

And the fences of virtue [...]eak down.

Thus, public or private, for pension, for place,

For amusement, for passion, for show,

All r [...]nks and degrees are engag'd in the chace,

With hark forward, huzza, tally ho.

WISDOM'S FAVORITE.

BANISH sorrow, grief and folly,

Thoughts unbend the wrinkling brow;

Hence dull care and melancholy,

Wine and mirth unite us now.

Bacchus opens all his treasure,

Comus brings us wit and songs;

Join to follow, follow, follow pleasure,

And let's join the jovial throngs.

Life is short, its but a season;

Time is ever on the wing:

Let's the present moment seize on,

Who knows what the rest may bring?

All my time I now will measure,

All my cares I now despise;

Join to follow, follow, follow pleasure,

To be happy's to be wise.

Wherefore should we thus perplex us,

Why should we not mery be;

Since there's nothing here to vex us;

[...]inking sets our hearts all free.

Let's have wine all without measure,

Let's have mirth what time we have;

Join to follow, follow, follow pleasure,

There's no drinking in the grave.

[Page]

When Death comes, we'll say, good fellow,

Take a glass, sit down by me;

Drink with us until you're mellow,

Then like us you shall be free.

Death sit down, we will have leisure;

Drinking can't be hurry'd so;

Join to follow, follow, follow pleasure,

When the wine's all out we'll go.

THE FLOWERS OF EDINBURGH.

MY love was once a bonny lad,

He was the flower of all his kin;

The absence of his bonny face

Has rent my tender heart in twain;

I day nor night find no delight,

In silent tears I still complain;

And exclaim 'gainst those my rival foes,

That hae ta'en me from my darling swain.

Despair and anguish fills my breast,

Since I have lost my blooming rose;

I sigh and moan, while others rest,

His absence yields me no repose.

To seek my love, I'll range and rove,

Thro' ev'ry grove and distant plain;

Thus I'll ne'er cease, but spend my days,

To hear things from my darling swain.

There's nothing strange in nature's change,

Since parents shew such cruelty;

They caus'd my love from me to range,

And knows not to what destiny.

The pretty kids, and tender lambs,

May cease to sport upon the plain;

But I'll mourn and lament in deep discontent,

For the absence of my darling swain.

Kind Neptune let me thee intreat,

To send a fair and pleasant gale:

Ye dolphins, sweet, upon me wait,

And convey me upon your tail:

Heavens bless my voyage with success.

While crossing of the raging main,

[Page] And send me safe o'er to that distant shore,

To meet my lovely darling swain.

All joy and mirth at our return,

Shall then abound from Tweed to Tay;

The bells shall ring, and sweet birds sing,

To grace and crown our nuptial day.

Thus bless'd with charms in my love's arms,

My heart once more I will regain:

Then I'll range no more to a distant shore,

But in love will enjoy my darling swain.

BANKS OF THE DEE.

'TWAS Summer, and softly the breezes were blowing,

And sweetly the Nightingale sung from the tree:

At the foot of a rock, where the river was flowing,

I sat myself down on the banks of the Dee.

Flow on, lovely Dee, flow on, thou sweet river;

Thy banks' purest streams shall be dear to me ever:

For there I first gain'd the affection and favor

Of Jamie, the glory and pride of the Dee.

But now he's gone from me, and left me thus mourning,

To quell the proud rebels, for valiant is he;

And ah! there's no hope of his speedy returning,

To wander again on the banks of the Dee.

He's gone, helpless youth! o'er the rude roaring billows,

The kindest and sweetest of all the gay fellows;

And left me to stray 'mongst the once loved willows,

The loneliest maid on the banks of the Dee.

But time and my prayers may perhaps yet restore him;

Blest peace may restore my dear shepherd to me;

And when he returns, with such care I'll watch o'er him,

He never shall leave the sweet banks of the Dee.

The Dee shall then flow, all its beauties displaying,

The lambs on its banks, shall again be seen playing;

While I with my Jamie am carelessly straying,

And tasting again all the sweets of the Dee.

[Page]

RURAL FELICITY.

COME haste to the wedding, ye friends and ye neighbors,

The lovers their bliss can no longer delay;

Forget all your sorrows, your cares and your labors,

And let ev'ry heart beat with rapture to day.

Come, come, one and all, attend to my call,

And revel in pleasures that never can cloy;

Come, see, rural felicity,

Which love and innocence ever enjoy.

Let envy and pride, let hate and ambition,

Still crowd to and [...]ias the breasts of the great,

To such wretched passions we give no admission,

But leave them alone to the wise ones of state.

We boast of no wealth but contentment and health,

In mirth and in friendship our moments employ,

Come see, &c.

With reason we taste of each [...] stirring pleasure,

With reason we drink of the full flowing bowl;

We're jocund and gay, but all within measure,

For fatal excess but enslaves the free soul.

Come, come, at our bidding, to this happy wedding,

No care shall obtrude here our bliss to annoy:

Come see, &c.

MARSEILLES HYMN.

Ye sons of France, awake to glory,

Hark! Hark! what myriads bid you rise!

Your children, wives, and grandsires hoary;

Behold their tears and hear their cries!

Shall hateful tyrants, mischief breeding,

With hireling hosts a ruffian band,

Lay waste and desolate the land,

While peace and liberty lie bleeding!

To arms, to arms ye brave;

The avenging sword unsheath;

March on, march on, all hearts resolv'd

On victory or death.

Now, now the dangerous storm is rolling,

While treach'rous kings confederate raise

[...]

[Page] [...] the bells and sill the bowls,

[...] all without control;

[...] so [...]ai [...] [...] B [...]t [...]

[...] so blest as Co [...]et?

Now adieu to maiden arts,

An [...]ling for u [...]gu [...]de [...] he [...]rts;

Welcome Hymen's last [...] joys,

[...]p [...]ng, wanton girls and boy,

Girls as f [...]r as l [...]v [...]ly B [...]t,

Boys as blest as Col [...].

Though [...]ipe sheaves of yellow co [...],

N [...]w my plenteous ba [...] adorn;

Though I've deck'd my myrtle bowers,

With the fairest, sweetest flowers,

Riper, fairer, sweeter yet

Are the charms of lovely Bet

Though on Sunday's I was [...]een,

Dress'd like any May-day queen.

Though six swe [...] daily st [...]ove,

To deserve thy Be [...]y's love,

Them I quit without regret,

All my joy's in Co [...]net.

Strike up then the rustic lay,

Crown with sport, our brida [...] day.

May each lad a mistress fi [...]d,

L [...]e my Betsey, fair and kind;

And each lass a h [...]sb [...]nd get,

Fond and true as C [...]

INDIAN WARRIOR.

THE san sets at night and the stars than the day,

But glo [...] remains when the light fades away;

B [...]gin ye tormentors, your threats are in vain,

For the son of Almonock will nev [...] complain.

Remember the woods where in ambush we lay.

And the scalps that we bore from your na [...]on away;

Why so slow! do you wait till I shrink from my pair.

[...] [...]e son of Almonock w [...]l [...]ever comp [...]ain.

[Page]

Remember the arrows he shot from his bow,

Remember the chiefs by his ha [...]chet laid low;

Now the flame rises high, ye exu [...]t in my pain,

But the son of Almonock will never complain.

I go to the land where my father has gone,

[...] ghost w [...]ll rejoice in the fame of his son;

Death comes like a friend to relieve me from pain,

And the son or Almonock will scorn to complain.

HOLLOW DRUM.

WHEN the hollow drum has beat to bed;

When the little fifer hangs his head;

Still and mute

The Moorish slute,

And nodding guards watch wearily;

Then will we

From prison free

March out by moonlight cheerily.

When the Moorish cymbals clash by day;

When the brazen trumpets shrilly bray;

The slave in vain

Must then complain

Of tyranny and knavery.

Would he know

His time to go,

And slily slip from slavery;

'Tis when the hollow drum, &c.

WAY WORN TRAVELLER.

FAINT and wearily the way worn traveller

Plods uncheerily, afraid to stop;

Wand'ring drearily a sad unraveller

Off the mazes toward the mountain top:

Doubting, fearing,

While his course is steering,

Cottages appearing

When he's nigh to drop;

O, how briskly then the way worn traveller

Treads the mazes toward the mountain top

[Page]

Though so melancholy, day has pas [...]'d by,

'Twould be folly now to think on't more;

Blithe and jolly, he the keg holds fast by

As he's sitting at the goatherd's door,

Eating, quafting,

At past labor laughing!

Better far hy half, in

Spirits than before.

O, how merry then the rested traveller,

Seems while sitting at the goatherd's door.

THE STORM.

CEASE, rude Boreas, blust'ring railer!

List, ye landsmen, all to me!

Messmates, hear a brother sailor

S [...]ng the dangers of the sea;

From bounding billows, first in motion,

When the distant whirlwinds rise,

To the tempest troubled ocean,

Where the seas contend with skies!

Hark! the boatswain hoarsely bawling,

By topsail sheets, and haulyards stand:

Down top-gallants quick be hauling,

Down your stay sails, hand, boys, hand

Now it freshens, set the braces,

The topsail sheets now let go!

Luff, boys, luff! don't make wry faces,

Up your topsails nimbly clew.

Now all you on down beds sporting,

Fondly look'd in beauty's arms;

Fresh enjoyments, wanton courting,

Safe from all but love's alarms:

Round us roars the tempest louder;

Think what fears our minds enthrall;

Harder yet, it yet blows harder,

Now again the boatswain calls!

The topsail yards point to the wind, boys,

See all clear to reef each course;

Let the fore sheet go, don't mind, boys,

Though the weather may be worse,

[Page] F [...]e and aft the sprit-sail yard get,

Reef the m [...]zen, see all clear,

Han [...]p, each preventure brace set,

Man the sore yard, cheer, lads, cheer!

Now the dreadful thunder's re [...]ring,

Peal on peal contending clash,

On our heads fierce rain falls pouring,

In our eye [...] h [...]ve lightnings flash.

One wide wate [...] all around u [...],

All above us one b [...]ack sky,

Different deaths at once surround us,

Hark! what means that dreadful cry!

The foremast's gone, cries every tongue out,

O'er the lee, twelve feet 'bove deck;

A leak beneath the chest tree's sprung out,

Call all hands to clear the wreck.

Q [...]ick the lanyards cut to pieces,

Come, my hearts, be stout and bold;

Plumb the well—the leak increases,

Four feet water in the hold.

While o'er the ship wild waves are beating,

We for wives or children mourn;

Alas! from hence there's no retreating,

Alas! to them there's no return.

Still the leak is gaining on us;

Both chain pumps are choak'd below.

Heav'n have mercy here upon us!

For only that can save us now.

O'er the le [...]-beam is the land, boys,

Let the guns o'er board be thrown:

To the pump come ev [...]ry hand, boys,

See! our [...]zen-mast is gone.

The leak we've found it cannot pour s [...]st,

We've lighton'd her a foot or more:

Up, and rig a jury foremast,

She rights, she rights, boys, we're off shore;

Now once more on joys we're thinking,

Since kind Heav'n has sav'd our lives;

Come, the can, boys! let's be drinking

To our sweet-hearts and our wives.

[Page] Fill it up, about ship wheel it,

Close to our lips a brimmer join,

Where's the tempest now, who feels it?

None—the dangers drown'd in wine.

FRESH AND STRONG.

FRESH and strong the breeze is blowing,

As yon s [...]p at anchor rides;

Sullen waves incessant flowing,

Rudely dash against its sides.

Thus my heart its conise impeded,

Beats in my perturbed breast;

Doubts like waves by waves succeeded,

Rise and still deny it rest.

By hor anchor still supported,

[...]ly round the tempe [...]t roars,

See the broken c [...]bles parted

And, alas! the ship's on shore.

Thus despair my soul annoying,

L [...]ke the overwhelming wave,

Hopes and fears alike destroying,

Speed me to the silent grave.

Cruel phantoms rise necturnal,

Point the dreadful scene to come

Rise my soul, each hour diurnal

Chide Amanda's wish to roam.

Yet a [...]ay of light beams on me,

Still Avatio may be kind;

Why should fancy's visions vex me?

Mere delusions of the mind.

BRIGHT GOD OF DAY.

THE bright god of day drew westward his ray,

And the evening was charming and clear;

The swallows remain and they fly o [...]er the plain,

And their shadows like giants appear.

In the cool summer's bower, where were violets and flowers,

And zephyrs had blown them around,

[Page] Lovely Sally she sat and she tun'd her spinnet,

And she charm'd all the groves with the sound.

Through the bowers she sung, her sweet harmony rung

And the birds were a fluttering to rise;

The industrious bee, from the flowers of the tree,

Gently humm [...]d with its sweets to the hive.

The bright god of love, as he flew o'er the grove

Where zephyrs had blown them around;

As she touch'd on the strings, he beat time with his wings,

And the echo repeated the sound.

Ye mortals beware lest ye venture too near,

Love doubtless is arm'd for to wound:

With your feet you must shun, or you surely undone,

If you rashly approach near the sound.

HIGHLAND QUEEN.

NO more my songs shall be, ye swains,

Of purling streams and flowry plains:

More pleasing beauties me inspire,

And Phebus tunes the warbling lyre:

Divinely aided thus I mean

To celebrate my Highland queen.

In her sweet innocence you'll find,

With freedom, truth and beauty join'd,

From pride and affectation free;

Alike she smiles on you and me:

The brightest nymph that trips the green,

I do pronounce my Highland queen.

No sordid wish nor trifling joy,

Her settled calm of mind destroy;

Strict honor fills her spotted soul,

And adds a lustre to her soul:

A matchless shape, a graceful mien

All ceatre in my Highland queen.

How blest that youth whose gentle fate

Was destin'd to so fair a m [...]e

[Page] Has all those destin'd gifts in store,

And each returning day brings more;

No youth so happy can be seen,

Possessing thee, my Highland queen.

THE FARMER.

COME each jolly fellow that loves to get mellow,

Attend unto me and sit easy;

One jorum in quiet, my lads let us try it,

Dull thinking will make a man crazy:

I am here as a king, I laugh, drink and sing,

Let no man appear as a stranger;

But shew me the Ass that refuses his glass

And I'll order him hay in a manger.

By plowing and sowing, by reaping and mowing,

Kind nature supplies me with plenty:

I've a cellar well stor'd and a plentiful board;

My garden affords every dainty:

I have all things in season both woodcock and pheason,

I am here as a Justice of quorum;

In my cabin's fore-end I've a bed for a friend,

A clean fire-side and a jorum.

Was it not for my seeding you'd have but poor feeding;

You'd surely be starved without me;

I'm always content, when I've paid off my rent,

And happy when friends are about me.

Draw close to the table, my lads, while you're able,

Let's not have one word of complaining,

For the jingling of glasses all music surpasses,

And I love to see bottles a draining.

Let the wealthy and great roll in splendor and state,

I envy them not, I declare it;

I eat my own lamb, my own chicken add ham,

And shear my own fleece and I wear it;

I've lawns and I've bowers, I've fr [...]ts and I've flowers;

The lark is my early alarmer;—

So my jolly boys now, that follow the plough,

Drink long life and success to the Farmer.

[Page]

SONG TO BACCHUS.

YE lads of true spirit, pay courtship to claret,

Releas'd from the troubles of thinking.

A fool long ago said we nothing could know;

The fellow knew nothing of drinking.

To pore over Plato, or practise with Cato,

Dispassionate dunces might make us:

But men, now more wise, self-denial despise,

And live by the lessons of Bacchus.

Big-wig'd, in fine coach, see the doctor approach;

He solemnly up the stairs paces;

Looks grave—smells his cane—applie [...] finger to vein,

And counts the repeats with grimaces.

As he holds pen in hand, life and death are at stand—

A toss up which party shall take us.

Away with such cant—no prescription we want

But the nourishing nost u [...] of Bacchus.

We jollily join in the practice of wine.

While miseries 'midst plenty are pining;

While ladies are scorning and lovers are mourning,

We laugh at wealth, wenching, and whining.

Drink, drink, now 'tis prime; toss a bottle to Time,

He'll not make such haste to o'er take us;

His threats we prevent, and his cracks we cement,

By the styptical [...]alsam of Bacchus.

What work is there made, by the newspaper trade,

Of this man's and t'other man's station!

The ins are all bad, and the onts are all mad;

In and out is the cry of the nation.

The political patter which both parties chatter

From bumpering freely shan't shake us;

With half-pints in hand, independent we'll stand

To defend Magna Charta of Bacchus.

Be your motions well-tim'd; be all charg'd and all prim'd;

Have a care—right and left—and make ready.

Right hand to glass join—at your lips rest youwine;

Be all in your exercise steady.

[Page] [...] we boast when our women we [...]oast;

M [...]y gra [...]ously they undertake us!

No more we desire—so drink and give sire,

A vo [...]ley to beauty and Bacchus!

ST. PATRICK'S DAY.

YE [...] and ye lasses so buxom and clever,

W [...]o come from Hibernia, of famons renown,

[...] best bibbs and be coming together,

So [...] yourselves all adorning.

[...]e music shall be sweetly playing,

Each shall be dancing, skipping round;

Green shamrock shall shine, sir,

To make u [...] all sine, sir;

Sait fish and potatoes

Shall smoke, my dear creatures,

And nothing be wanting which there can be found

Fu [...] b [...]mper [...] of whisky

Will make us all frisky

On St. Patrick's day in the morning.

St. Patrick he was of vast estimation,

And liv'd a great while, sir, before he wa [...] de [...]

He trighten'd the bug-a-bos out of the nation,

So none of your snearing and scorning;

For many things he did most truly,

All as clever [...] clever could be,

He Banish'd the bags, sir,

From blankets and [...]ugs, sir,

Ah! [...] a bo [...], sir,

What more could he do, sir;

Whatever he said, sir, the blind could not see.

With heart like Shellaly,

Then, let us be ga [...]ly

On St. Patrick's day in the morning.

There's Phelim O'Fagan, and ruddy fac'd Paddy;

With many tall fellows to make up the wa [...],

Miss Blarney will sing with her mammy and [...].

And play till the ev'ning's returning;

With m [...]th and music, dance and [...]aper,

We will joy [...]l, [...]al be,

[Page] While each pretty miss, sir,

We'll smuggle and kiss, sir,

And pull'em, and haul 'em,

And tenderly maul 'em

Arrah! who in the world are so merry as we?

All this to begin, sir,

We think it no sin, sir,

On St. Pattrick's day in the morning.

VICAR OF BRAY.

IN good king Charles's golden days,

When loyalty had no harm in't,

A zealous high-church man I was,

and so I got preferment.

To teach my flock I never miss'd

Kings are by God appointed,

And those are damn'd that do resist

Or touch the Lord's annointed.

And this is law I will maintain

Until my dying day, sir:

That, whatsoever king shall reign,

I will be the vicar of Bray sir.

When royal James obtain'd the throne,

And pop'ry came in fashion,

The penal laws I hooted down,

And read the Declaration.

The church of Rome I found would fit

Full well my constitution,

And had become a Jesuit

But for the rev [...]lution.

And this is law, &c.

When William was our king declar'd,

To ease the nation's grievance,

With this new wind about I steer'd,

And swore to him allegiance.

Old principles I did revoke,

Set conscience at a distance;

Patsive obedience was a joke,

And [...]sh was non resistance.

And th [...] is law, &c.

[Page]

When gracious Anne ascends the throne.

The church of England's glory,

Another face of things was seen,

And I became a tory.

Occasional conformists base

I damn'd their moderation,

And tho't the church in danger was

By such prevarication,

And this is law, &c.

When George in pudding-time came o'er,

And moderate men look'd big, sir;

I turn'd a cat-in-pan once more,

And then became a whig, sir;

And so preferment I procur'd

By our new faith's defender,

And always ev'ry day abjur'd

The pope and the pretender.

And this is law, &c.

Th' illustrious house of Hanover

And protestant profession,

To these I do allegiance swear

While they can keep possession;

For, by my faith and loyalty,

I never more will faulter,

But George my lawful king shall be,

Until the times shall alter.

And this is law, &c.

PUSH ABOUT THE BOWL BOYS.

PUSH about the bowl, boys, let us leave all meaner joys;

Push about the bowl, boys, drowning every sorrow;

Hence, away reflections rude,

Dull care was made for solitude,

And should austere advice intrude,

We'll bid him call tomorrow.

He who balks his glass, boys, half his being's [...] destroys;

He who balks his glass, boys, is a f [...]rry fellow.

For wine with mirth will fill the [...]ve;

[Page] W [...]e will make the coward brave,

And the very sneaking knave

As fine as any fellow.

F [...]sh about the bowl, boys, wisdom at the bottom lies;

Fath about the bowl, boys, here's no time for thinking,

Let us with hands and hearts unite

To do our selves and bumpers right,

The business of this very night

Consists alone in dr [...]nking.

G [...]ve us each a lass, boys, one who most our minds employs;

G [...]ve us each a lass, boys, modest, but complying

One whose soul is form'd for bliss,

Who loves to bill, to c [...]o, and kiss,

And cannot see what harm it is

To save a swain from dying

Here's to our noble selves, boys, length of days and lasting joys;

Here's to our noble selves, boys, the toast will bear repeating:

Before I bid a last adieu,

Here's to ev'ry heart that's sound and true,

So here's to you, to you, and you.

[...] our next happy meeting.

GREENWICH PENSIONER.

'TWAS in the good ship Rover,

I sail'd the world around,

And for three years and over

I ne'er touch'd British ground

At length in England landed,

I left [...] roaring main.

Found all relations stranded,

And went to sea again.

That time bound straight to Portugal,

Right s [...]e and ast we bore,

And when we made Cape O [...]tugal,

A gale blew o [...] the shore.

She lay so it did snock her,

A log upon the main

[Page] Till sav'd from Davy's locker,

We put to sea again.

Next in a frigate sailing

Upon a stormy night;

Thunder and lightning hailing

The horrors of the fight:

My precious limb was lopped off,

I, when they eas'd my pain,

Thank'd God I was not popped off,

And went to sea again.

But still I am enabled

To bring up in life's rear,

Although I am disabled,

And he in Greenwich tier.

The King, God bless his royalty,

Who sav'd me from the main,

I'll praise with love and loyalty,

But ne'er to sea again.

TOM BOWLING.

HERE, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling,

The darling of our crew:

No more he'll hear the tempest howling,

For death hath brought him too.

His form was of the manhest beauty;

His heart was kind and soft;

Faithful below he did his duty,

And now he's gone aloft.

Tom never from his word departed,

His virtues were so rare;

His friends were many and true hearted;

His Poll was kind and fair:

And then he'd sing so blithe and jolly,

Ah! many's the time and oft;

But mirth is tu [...]n'd to melancholy,

For Tom is gone aloft.

Yet shall poor Tom find pleasant [...]e ther,

When he who all commands

[Page] Shall give, to call life's crew together,

The word to pipe all hands.

Thus death who kings and tars dispatches,

Tom's life was vainly dost;

For though his body's under hatches,

His soul is gone aloft.

FRIENDSHIP.

FRIENDSHIP to every willing mind

Opens a heavenly treasure:

There may the sons of sorrow find

Sources of real pleasure.

See what employments men pursue,

Then you will own my words are crue:

Friendship alone unfolds to view

Sources of real pleasure.

Poor are the joys which fools esteem,

Fading and transitory:

Mirth is as fleeting as a dream,

Or a delusive story:

Luxury leaves a sting behind,

Wounding the body and the mind:

Only in Friendship can we find

Pleasure and solid glory.

Beauty, with all its gaudy shows,

Is but a painted bubble:

Short is the triumph, wit bestows,

Full of deceit and trouble

Fame, like a shadow flies away,

Titles and dignities decay:

Nothing but Friendship can display

Joys that are free, from trouble.

Learning (that boasted glittering thing)

Scarcely is worth possessing:

Riches, forever on the wing,

Cannot be call'd a blessing:

Sensual pleasures swell desire,

Just as the fuel feeds the fire:

Friendship can real bliss, inspire,

Bliss that is worth possessing.

[Page]

Happy the man who has a friend

Form'd hy the God of nature;

Well may he feel and recommend

Friendship for his Creator.

Then as our hands in Friendship join,

So let our social powers combine,

[...]ol'd by a passion most divine,

Friendship with our Creator.

§

AT length my charming creature,

Receive the fond adieu;

The pangs of love how bitter,

The joys how short, how few;

No more those eyes so rolling,

With killing glance reprove,

The bosom gently swelling,

While every pulse beats love.

I'll go where glory bids me,

That points the dangerous way;

Though cowardly love upbraids me,

Yet honor bids obey;

And honor's boasting story,

So plain those doubts reprove,

I'm fir'd with thirst of glory,

While every pulse beats love.

Thus love and glory pleading,

My aching heart divides;

There is my country bleeding,

And here's my weeping bride;

But now the faithful lover,

Can true to either prove,

War fires my veins all over,

While every pulse heats love.

Nor think where e'er I wander,

And cross the sea or land,

A distant heart can squander

What mutual joys have gain'd;

Kind Heaven the brave ne'er quitting,

Will keep me when at war,

And raptures crown our meeting

Which love ne'er felt before.

[Page]

PIPE OF TOBACCO.

TOBACCO is an Indian weed,

Grows in the morn, is cut down at eve

It shows its decay;

Man's life is like hay.

Think of this when you smoke tobacco.

The pipe that is so lily white,

Wherein many take delight;

It is broken with a touch;

Man's life it is such.

Think of this, &c.

The pipe, that is so foul within,

Shows man's life is stain'd with sin;

It therefore doth require

To be purified with fire.

Think of this, &c.

The smoke, that doth ascend on high,

Shows man's life is vanity;

All earthly stuff

Is nothing but a puff.

Think of this, &c.

The ashes, that are left behind,

Are for to put us all in mind,

That unto dust,

Return we must.

Think of this, &c.

BONNY BOY.

'TWAS once that I loved a bonny, bonny boy;

I lov'd him I vow and protest;

I lov'd him to well so very, very well,

That I built him a seat in my breast.

'Twas up the green forest, 'twas down the green forest,

Like one that was troubled in mind,

I whoop'd and I call'd, I play'd on my lute,

But no bonny, bonny boy could I find.

I looked up high, I looked down low,

The sun it snown wonderful warm,

[Page] And who did I spy, but my bonny, bonny bo

With another girl clos'd in his arms.

He reached me forth his lily white hand,

As though I'd been at his command;

But I passed right by and ne'er cast an eye,

Though I had been bound in love's chai [...].

He sat me upon his trembling knee,

And looked me full in the face;

He gave unto me a resembling kiss,

With his heart in another girl's breast.

The girl that enjoys my bonny, bonny boy,

I am sure she is not to be blam'd,

For many a night he's broke me of my rest,

But he never shall do it again.

THE HOBBIES.

ATTENTION pray give, while of hobbies I sing,

For each has his hobby from cobbler to king;

On some fav'rite hobby we all get astride,

And when we're once mounted, full gallop we ride:

All on hobbies, all on hobbies, all on hobbies,

Gee up and Geo.

Some hobbies are restiff and hard for to govern,

E'en just like our wives, they're so cursedly stubborn;

The hobbies of scolds are their husbands to tease,

And t [...]e hobbies of lawyers are plenty of sees:

That's their hobby, &c.

The beaux, those sweet gentlemen's hobbies, good lack!

Is to wear great large poultices ty'd round their neck;

And they think in the ton and the tippee they're drest,

If they've breeches, that reach from the ankle to chest:

That's their hobby, &c.

The hobbies of sailors, when safe moor'd in port,

With their wives and their sweethearts to toy and to sport;—

When our navy's compleated, their hobby shall be,

To shew the whole wor [...] that America's free:

T [...] [...] hobby, &c.

[Page]

The hobbies of soldiers, in time of great wars,

Are bl [...]ches and battles, with blood, wounds and fears;

But in peace you'll observe that quite diff'rent their trade is;

The hobbies of soldiers in peace are the ladies:

That's their hobby, &c.

The ladies, sweet creatures, yes, they, now and then,

Get astride of their hobbies, ay, just like the men;

With smiles, and with simpers, beguile us with ease,

And we gallop, trot, amble, e'en just as they please:

That's their hobby, &c.

The American's hobby has long since been known;

No tyrant, or king, shall from them have a throne:

Our states are united and let it be said,

Our hobby is WASHINGTON, peace and free trade:

That's our hobby, &c.

HOW IMPERFECT IS EXPRESSION.

HOW imperfect is expression,

Some emotions to impart,

When we mean a soft confession,

And yet seek to hide the heart!

When our bosoms, all complying,

With delicious tumults swell,

And beat, what broken, falt'ring, dying,

Language would, but cannot tell!

Deep confession's rosy terror,

Quite expressive, paints my cheek:

Ask no more—behold your error—

Blushes eloquently speak.

What, tho' silent is my anguish,

Or breath'd only to the air,

Mark my eyes, and as they languish,

Read what your's have written there.

O that you could once conceive me!

Once my soul's strong s [...]ing view!

Love has nought more [...] believe [...]

Friendship nothing [...] so [...]

[Page] From you, I am wild, despairing;

With you, speechless as I touch!

This is all that bears declaring

And, perhaps, declares too much.

THE SAILOR'S JOURNAL.

'TWAS post meridian half past four,

By signal I from Nancy parted:

At six she lingered on the shore,

With uplift hands and broken hearted;

At sev'n, while taughtening the fore-stay,

I saw her faint, or else 'twas fancy;

At eight we all got under way,

And bid a long adieu to Nancy.

Night came, and now eight bells had rung.

While careless sailors, ever cheary,

On the mid watch so jovial sung,

With tempers labour cannot weary.

I little to their mirth inclin'd,

While tender thoughts rush'd on my fancy,

And my warm sighs increas'd the wind,

Look'd on the moon, and thought of Nancy

And now arrived that jovial night,

When ev'ry true bred tar c [...]rouses,

When o'er the grog, all hands d [...]g [...]t

To toast their sweet-hearts and their spo [...]s [...].

Round went the can, the jest, the g [...]ee.

While tender [...]she [...] sill'd each fancy;

And when, in turn, it came to me,

I heav'd a sigh, and toasted Nancy.

Next morn a storm came on at four,

At six, the elements in motion,

Plung'd me and three poor sailors mone

Headlong within the foaming ocean.

Poor wretches! they soon found their [...]

For me, it may be only fancy.

But love seemed to forbid the waves

To snatch me from the a [...]s of Nancy.

Scarce the foul hurrica [...] was cleared.

Scarce winds and way [...] ceased [...],

[Page] When a bold enemy appeared,

And, dauntiess, we prepared for battle.

Like lightning, [...]ushed on every fancy.

To Providence I trusted life,

Put up a prayer and thought on Nancy.

At last 'twas in the month of May,

The crew, it being lovely weather,

At three A. M. discovered day,

And England's chalky cliffs together.

At seven, up channel how we bore,

While hopes and fears rushed on my fancy;

At twelve I gaily jumped ashore,

And to my throbbing heart pressed Nancy.

THE LUCKY ESCAPE.

I THAT once was a ploughman, a sailor am now,

No lark that's aloft in the sky,

E'er flutter'd his wings to give speed to the plough,

Was so gay and so careless as I:

But my friend was a carpenter aboard a king's ship,

And he ask'd me to go just to sea for a trip;

He talk'd of such things,

As if sailors were kings,

And so teasing did keep,

That I left my poor plough to go ploughing the deep:

No longer the horn

Call'd me up in the morn;

I trusted to the carpenter and the inconstant wind,

That made me for to go and leave my dear behind.

I did not much like to be aboard of ship,

When in danger there's no door to creep out;

I lik'd the jolly tars, I lik'd bumbo and slip,

But I did not like [...]ocking about.

By and by came a hurricane, I did not like that;

Next a battle when many a sailor lay flat:

Ah! cried I, why did I roam,

That like me had a home;

I could sow, I could reap,

[...]e I left my poor plough to go ploughing the deep,

[Page] When sweetly the horn

Call'd me up in the morn;

Fre I trusted to the carpenter and the inconstant wind,

That made me for to go and leave my dear behind.

At length safe I landed and in a whole skin,

Nor did I make any long stay,

Fre I found by a f [...]iend, that I ask'd for my kin—

Father's end and your wife's ran away.

A [...], who but myself, said I, hast thou to blame;

W [...]ves losing their husbands oft lose a good name:

Ah! why did I roam,

When so happy at home;

I could sow, I could reap,

E [...]e I left my poor plough to go ploughing the deep;

When so sweetly the horn

Call'd me up in the morn:

Curse light upon the carpenter and the inconstant w [...]d,

That made me for to go and leave my dear behind.

Why, if that be the case, said this very same friend,

And you are no more minded to roam;

G [...]e [...]ns a snake by your fi [...]t, all your care's at an end,

D [...]'s a [...]ve and your wife's safe at home.

Stark starting with joy, I leap'd out of my skin,

Buss'd my wife, mother, sister and all of my kin;

Now, cried I, let them roam,

Who want a good home;

I am well, so I'll keep,

Nor again leave my plough to go ploughing the deep,

Once more shall the horn

Call me up in the morn,

Nor shall any d—d carpenter, or the inconstant wind,

Ever tempt me for to go and leave my dear behind.

THE WANDERER.

CEASE, a while, ye winds, to blow;

Cease, a while, ye streams, to flow;

[...]n'd be every ruder noise,

M [...]ks I hear my lover's voice,

[Page]

There's the rock, the hill, the tree,

Hark! a voice! methinks 'tis he;

'Ris not he, still night comes on,

And where's my lovely wanderer gone?

Loud I'll call, I'll make him hear,

'Tis I, who calls, my love, my [...]

The time is past, why this delay,

My lovely wanderer's lost his way?

LADY WASHINGTON.

SAW you my Hero, saw you my Hero,

Saw you my Hero George;

I have travell'd o'er the plains and enquir'd of all the swains,

But no tidings could gain of my George.

I saw not your Hero, I saw not your Hero,

I saw not your Hero George:

But I [...]m told h [...]'s in the van, where the battle [...] [...]ust began.

And I'll hasten my men to the charge.

O'er hills and o'er dales, o'er mountains and vales,

where the drums and the trumps sound alarms;

Heaven! give thy angels charge to protect my Hero George,

And return him safe back to my arms.

[...]ark the hoarse thunder shakes the earth' [...] centre.

The groan [...] and the clashing of [...]ms.

Kind heaven prove my friend and my Hero George defend.

Shield, protect, and secu [...] [...]im from harms,

Balls, bombs, and [...]ngrage, groans death and carnage,

The hill and the caverns resou [...]

The field is cover'd o'er with the str [...]s of purple gore,

And the dead lay in heaps on the ground

But now the loud huzzas, shouts my Hero's pr [...]ses,

Victorious George they proclaim—

[Page] Columbia now prepare, ye my loves triumphal car,

And let same thout my conquerors name.

Hail mighty Hero, Columbia's Hero,

Who gave to America peace;

Long may he live renowned and with brilliant honor's crowned.

Till complete in the mansions of bliss.

OLD WIDOW'S SON.

THERE was once an old widow, and she had a son,

She lov'd him as [...]ear a [...] her life;

When long he'd liv'd single as many have done,

She wish'd he might have a good wife—she did.

Yes, she did and so she did;

She wish'd he might have a good wife—she did.

Robin, quoth she, come harken to me,

I'll give you good counsel for life;

Hasten aw [...]y and make no delay,

I'll warrant you'll get you a wife—you will

Yes, you will and so you will;

I'll warrant you'll get you a wife—you will.

Dress you up in your holy day clothes,

And k [...]ss every girl you meet;

Some will look shy and take it awry,

Yet others will say it is sweet—they will.

Yes, they will and so they will;

Yet others will say it is sweet—they will.

The first, that he met with upon the highway,

Was a farmer's fair daughter, call'd Grace:

Something he spoke as an [...]p [...]cent [...]oke,

And the in [...] hum a slap in the face—she did.

Ye, she did and so she did;

She hit him a slap in the face—she did.

Why, Mistress Jane, say what do you me [...],

To strike such a [...] t [...]a [...] I;

I [...] my holyday clothes, I shine like [...]ose;

You may want [...]ch a lad till you die—you may.

Yes, you may and so you may;

You may want such a [...] till you die—you may.

[Page]

As he was a strolling along the highway,

Not heeding their jests or their jokes,

He kiss'd the priost's wife which caused much strife,

So he got his feet fast in the stocks—he did.

Yes, he did and so he did;

He got his feet fast in the stocks—he did.

If this is the way to get me a wife,

I never will kiss any other;

But I will live single the rest of my life,

So, I think I'll go home to my mother—I will.

Yes I will and so I will;

I think I'll go home to my mother—I will.

ROSE-TREE.

THE rose-tree in full bearing,

Had sweet flowers fair to see;

One rose beyond comparing,

For beauty attracted me;

Tho' eager then to win it,

Lovely blooming fresh and gay;

I sind a canker in it,

And now I throw it far away.

How fine this morning early,

All sunshiny, clear, and bright;

So late I loved you dearly,

Tho' lost now each fond delight

The clouds seem big with showers,

Sunny beams no more are seen;

Farewell ye fleeting hours,

Your falsehood has chang'd the scene.

FINIS.

Information about this book

Title statement

The Nightingale. A collection of the most elegant songs, now in vogue. : [One line of quotation]

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI :

Date

2011-05.

ID [DLPS]

N36828

ID [TCP]

N36828

ID [STC]

Shipton 48207

ID [NOTIS]

APW9444

ID [IMAGE-SET]

48207

ID [EVANS-CITATION]

99015766

Availability

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Series

Early American Imprints, 1639-1800 ; no. 48207.

Notes

(Evans-TCP ; no. N36828)

Transcribed from: (Readex Archive of Americana ; Early American Imprints, series I ; image set 48207)

Images scanned from Readex microprint and microform: (Early American imprints. First series ; no. 48207)

Source

— The Nightingale. A collection of the most elegant songs, now in vogue. : [One line of quotation],

Extent

40 p. ; 15 cm. (8vo)

Samuel Preston, Amherst.,. [Amherst, Mass.] :: 1797.. (Without music.)

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