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Its safe and silent islands
Within the dark morass.
Who little think us near,
A strange and sudden fear,
They grasp their arms in vain,
Are bent to earth again ;
A mighty host behind,
Upon the hollow wind.
From danger and from toil ; We walk the battle over,
And share the battle's spoil.
As if a hunt were up,
To crown the soldier's cup.
That in the pine top grieves,
On beds of oaken leaves, Well known the fair and friendly moon,
The band that Marion leads, The glitter of their rifles,
The scampering of their steeds, 'Tis life our fiery barbs to guide
Across the moonlight plain;
'Tis life to feel the night wind
That lifts their tossing manes, A moment in the ravaged camp.com
A moment and away,
Before the peep of day.
Grave men with hoary hairs
For Marion are their prayers :
With kindliest welcoming-
And tears like those of spring.
And lay them down no more,
For ever from our shore.
O hon, my Highlandman !
Amang ten thousand Highlandmón.
O, hon, &c.
This lovely youth of whom I sing,
O hon, &c.
O hon, &c.
POOR BROWN BESS.
RECITATIVE. As through Hyde Park the vet'ran chanc'd to balt
The guards close pass’d him on a grand field day, He stopp'd and sighid-'twas age and not his fault
That kept him prisoner he was heard to say. Else had he still for Britain bravely dar'd
For George and liberty fresh courage shed ; Fougbt all those battles he had nobly shar'd
And in his country's cause his last has bled. But old, decrepit, and of strength bereft,
Few were the hairs upon his silver head; With wounds all cover'd he reluctant left
The bed of honour for a homely bed. His crutch now propp'd his tottering steps along,
And as he dimly view'd the glittering crowd, With tears of rapture, yet of anguish strong,
A soldier's firelock he address'd aloud :
At my grief you well may guess ;
How I've lov'd my poor Brown Bess. Forty-five long years her lover,
My fond arms she used to press: Twelve sad years and more are over,
Since I've hugg'd my poor Brown Bess. Her skin, though not so soft and fair,
As some soft dames, I must confess, Yet as much good time and care
Has been employed on poor Brown Bess. Faithful still to ev'ry duty
For parade whene'er I dress ; Neat and clean—a polish'd beauty,
Ever came my poor Brown Bess, Of her fame our foes can mention,
Loud report to their distress : Soon she silence all dissension,
Such a voice had poor Browo Bess. But, alas! those times are past now,
Age and wounds my fame possess ;
So farewell my poor Brown Bess,
shall press Or the coffin quite enclose me,
By my side lay poor Brown Bess.
Shall never part from mine,
Untainted back to thine.
An equal love may eee,
The kiss, &c.
In gazing when alone ;
Whose thoughts were all thine own.
That heart no longer free.
The kiss, &c
THE CABIN BOY.
The sea was rough, the clouds were dark,
Far distant every joy,
I went a cabin boy.
I hasten'd home with joy,
A helpless cabin boy.