And Death unfailing
Will strike the blow,
Then for that reason,
And for a season,
Let us be merry
Before we go.

To joy a stranger,

A

way-worn ranger,

In every danger

My course I've run ;
Now hope all ending,
And Death befriending,
His last aid lending,
My cares are done :
No more a rover,
Or hapless lover,

My griefs are over,

My glass runs low;
Then for that reason,

And for a season,

Let us be merry

Before we go

XL

THE ARETHUSA

COME, all ye jolly sailors bold,

Whose hearts are cast in honour's mould, While English glory I unfold,

Huzza for the Arethusa !

She is a frigate tight and brave,
As ever stemmed the dashing wave ;
Her men are staunch

To their fav'rite launch,

And when the foe shall meet our fire,
Sooner than strike, we'll all expire
On board of the Arethusa.

'Twas with the spring fleet she went out
The English Channel to cruise about,
When four French sail, in show so stout
Bore down on the Arethusa.

The famed Belle Poule straight ahead did lie,
The Arethusa seemed to fly,

Not a sheet, or a tack,

Or a brace, did she slack;

Though the Frenchman laughed and thought it stuff,

But they knew not the handful of men, how tough,

On board of the Arethusa.

On deck five hundred men did dance,
The stoutest they could find in France;
We with two hundred did advance
On board of the Arethusa.

Our captain hailed the Frenchman, 'Ho!
The Frenchman then cried out 'Hallo !'
'Bear down, d'ye see,

To our Admiral's lee !'

'No, no,' says the Frenchman, that can't be !' 'Then I must lug you along with me,'

Says the saucy Arethusa.

The fight was off the Frenchman's land,
We forced them back upon their strand,
For we fought till not a stick could stand
Of the gallant Arethusa.

And now we've driven the foe ashore
Never to fight with Britons more,
Let each fill his glass

To his fav'rite lass;

A health to our captain and officers true,
And all that belong to the jovial crew
On board of the Arethusa.

Prince Hoare.

XLI

THE BEAUTY OF TERROR

TIGER, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain ?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?

Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

XLII

Blake.

DEFIANCE

FAREWELL, ye dungeons dark and strong,

The wretch's destinie: M'Pherson's time will not be long

On yonder gallows tree.

Sae rantingly, sae wantonly,

Sae dauntingly gaed he;

He played a spring and danced it round,
Below the gallows tree.

Oh, what is death but parting breath ?—
Ón monie a bloody plain

I've dared his face, and in this place
I scorn him yet again!

Untie these bands from off my hands,
And bring to me my sword!
And there's no a man in all Scotland,
But I'll brave him at a word.

I've lived a life of sturt and strife ;
I die by treacherie :

It burns my heart I must depart
And not avengèd be.

Now farewell light, thou sunshine bright,
And all beneath the sky!

May coward shame distain his name,

The wretch that dares not die !

Sae rantingly, sae wantonly,

Sae dauntingly gaed he;

He played a spring and danced it round,
Below the gallows tree.

XLIII

THE GOAL OF LIFE

SHOULD auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to min'?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o' lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my dear,

For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne.