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For valor, skill, and worth renown’d,
The foe he oft defeated,
And now, with fame and fortune crown’d,
Post Captain he is rated;
Who, should our injur’d country bleed,
Still bravely would defend her;
Now, blest with peace, should beauty plead,
He’ll prove his heart as tender:
Unaw’d, yet mild to high and low.
To poor or wealthy, friend or foe,
Wounded tars share his wealth,
All the fleet drink his health.
Priz’d be such hearts, for aloft they will go,
Which always are ready compassion to shew
To a brave conquer’d foe.

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THIS IS NO MINE AIN LASSIE.

O this is no mine ain lassie,
Fair tho’ the lassie be;
O weel ken I mine ain lassie,
Kind love is in her ee.

I see a form, I see a face,
Ye weel may wi’ the fairest place;
It wants, to me, the witching grace,
The kind love that’s in her ee.
O this is no, &c.