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Whether ſhe love the rural ſcenes
Or ſparkle in the airy town,
O! happy he her favour gains,
Unhappy! if ſhe on him frown.
The mufe unwilling quits the lovely theme,
Adieu ſhe ſings, and thrice repeats her name.
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THE DISCONSOLATE SAILOR.
When my money was all ſpent I'd gain'd in the war,
and the world began to frown on my fate,
What matter'd my zeal or my honoured fears,
when indifference ſtood at the gate.
The face that would ſmile when my purſe was well lin'd,
Shews a diff'rent reſpect unto me,
But if I can nought but indifference find,
I'll hie myſel again to the ſea.
I thought it not ſafe to repine at my lot,
or to ſtay with cold looks on the ſhore,
But I pack'd up the trifling remains I had got,
and a trifle, alas! was my ſtore.
A handkerchief held all the treaſure I had,
which on a ſtick over my ſhoulder I threw,
Away then I ſteer'd with a heart rather ſad,
for to join with ſome jolly ſhip's crew.
The ſea was leſs troubled by far than my mind,
and as the wide main I ſurvey'd,
I could not help thinking the world was unkind,
and Fortune a ſlipp'ry jade.
But if I can take her once more into tow,
I will let theſe ungrateful ones ſee,
That the bluſt'ring winds and the billows can ſhow
more kindneſs than they have for me.
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Printed by J. & M. Robertſon, Saltmarket, 1802.
