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The scepter’d King, the burden’d slave,
the humble and the haughty die;
The rich, the poor, the base, the brave,
in dust, without distinction, lye!
Go search the tombs where monarchs rest,
who once the greatest titles wore,
Of wealth and glory they’re bereft,
and all their honours are no more.
So flies the meteor thro’ the skies,
and spreads along a gilded train;
When shot, ’tis gone! its beauty dies!
dissolves to common air again!
So ’tis with us, my loving friends,
Let friendship reign, while here we stay:
Let’s crown our joy with virtuous deeds,
when call’d to die, we must obey.
❋†❋†❋†❋†❋†❋†❋†❋†❋†❋†❋
GEN. WOLFE VICTORY.
Britons loyal and bold,
Who could never be controll’d
By the French.--See the bravest of his sex,
British Wolfe, st u and good,
Made the rivers run with blood,
At the glorious conquest of Quebec.
