At three o'clock nine mighty fhips had ftruck their colours proud,

And two brave admirals at his feet their vanquifh'd flags had bow'd:

Our Duncan's tow'ring colours ftream'd all honour to the

laft,

For in the battles fierceft rage, he nailed them to the maft; Our Duncan's towering colours, &c.

The victory was now complete; the cannon ceas'd to roar;
The fcatter'd remnants of the foe flunk to their native shore;
No
power the pride of conquest had his heart to lead astray,
He fummoned 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, ftrength, and skill infpir'd in that dread battle's hour.

And humbly blefs'd, &c.

The captive Dutch this folemn fcene furvey'd with filent

awe,

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

law,

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

For victory, for fame, and power, juft rule, and high com

mand.

And mark'd, &c.

The Venerable was the fhip, 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 ftormy day;
For fifty years and more, my boys, has fighting been his way.

GRAND CHORUS.

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

DUNCAN GRAY.

BY R. BURNS.

DUNCAN Gray came here to woo, ha, ha, the wooing o't, On new-year's day when we were fou, ha, ha, the wooing o't; Maggie cooft her head fu' high,

Look'd afklent and unco fkiegh

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 Chelfea 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 fick, as he grew frail, ha, ha, the wooing o't, Something in her bofom wrings,

For relief a figh fhe brings,

And oh her een they spak' fic 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 fmoor'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 fing, fal la,
Come on ye rofy hours, gay fmiling moments bring,
We'll ftrew the way with flow'rs, and merrily, merrily, fing,
fal la,

For what's the ufe of fighing when time is on the wing,
Can we prevent his flying, then merrily, merrily, fing, fal la

ON A BANK OF FLOWERS.

BY R. BURNS.

ON a bank of flowers one fummer's day;
For fummers lightly drefs'd,
The youthful blooming Nelly lay,
With love and fleep oppress'd.

When Willy wand'ring thro' the wood,
Who for her favour oft had fu'd,

He gaz'd, he wish'd, he fear'd, he blush'd,
And trembl'd when he stood.

Her clofed

eyes, like weapons fheath'd,

Were feal'd in soft repose,

Her lips ftill as the fragrant breath'd,

It richer dy'd, the rofe.

The springing lillies fweetly prefs'd,
Wild wanton kiss'd her rival breast;

He gaz'd, he wish'd, he fear'd, he blush'd,
His bofom ill at reft.

Her robes light waving in the breeze,

Her tender limbs embrace,

Her lovely form, her native cafe,

All harmony and grace.

Tumultuous tides his pulfes roll,
A flatt'ring ardent kifs he ftole:

He gaz'd, he wifh'd, he fear'd, he blufh'd,
And figh'd his very foul.

As flies the partridge from the brake,

On fear infpired wings;

So Nelly ftartling half awake,

Away affrighted fprings.

But Willy follow'd as he fhould,
He overtook her in the wood,

He vow'd, he pray'd, he found the maid
Forgiving all and good.

THE POOR LITTLE GIPSY.

A POOR little gipfy 1 wander forlorn;
My fortune was told long before I was born,
So fortunes I tell as forfaken I ftray,

And in search of my love I am loft on my way;
Spare a halfpenny, fpare a halfpenny,

Spare a poor little gipfy, a gipfy a halfpenny,
Spare a poor little gipfy a halfpenny,