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Says I, true, but just after you left it in bobbled
Six monstrous geese, and the barley they gobbled ;
And neighbour you'll own 'tis no new case to find,
When a thing's out of sight it soon gets outof mind.

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THE BANNER OF WAR.
Behold the Britannia ! how stately and brave

She floats on the ambient tide!
For empire designed, o'er the turbulent waves,
How trim and how gallant sbe rides !

Yet love in a true Briton's heart,

With glory contends for a part;
And the fair cheek of beauty with tears is impearld,
When the banner, the banner of war is unturl'd!
On the shore bow alert, how intrepid the crew,

How firm at their sovereign's command;
Or dauntless o'er ocean her foes to pursue,
Apd die for the cause of our land!

Yet one tear, ere the heroes depart ;

One sigh should be drawn from the heart; One kiss on the cheek which sweet sorrows im

pearl'd,
When the banner, the banner of war is unfurld.
Now forth to the conquest, the battle swells high,

And fierce round the vessel it roars ;
Hark! the sons of Britannia 'To victory!' cry,
And victory sounds to our shores :

Then peaceful again to their home,

Shall the patriot warriors come;
No more the fair cheek shall with tears beimpearl'd
But the banner of peace be for ever unfurl do

WHISTLE O’ER THE LAVE O'T.
First, when Meggy was my care,
Heaven I thought was in her air ;
Now we're married-spier bae mair

Wbistle o'er the lave o't.

Meg was meek, and Meg was mild,
Bonnie Meg was Nature's child-
Wiser men than me's beguiled

Whistle o'er the lavo o't.

How we live, my Meg and I,
How we love, and how we 'gree,
I carena how few may seem

Whistle o'er the lave o't.
Wha I wish were maggot's meat,
Dished up in her winding sheet,
I could write-but Meg maun see't-

Whistle o'er the lave o't.

ENCOMPASSED IN AN ANGEL'S FRAME,

Encompassed in an angel's frame,

An angel's virtues lay:
Too soon did Heaven assert the claim,

And called its own away.
My Anna's worth, my Anna's charms,

Must never more return :
What now shall fill these widowed arms?

Ah, me!--my Anna's urn.
Can I forget that bliss refined,

Which blest when her I know?

Our hearts in sacred bonds ontwined,

Were bound in love too true
Tbe rural train, whicb once we used

In festive dance to turn,
So pleased when Apna they amused,

Now, weeping, deck ber uro.
The soul escaping from its chain,

She clasped me to ber breast, . To part with thee is all my pain !'

She cried-then suok to rest, While mem'ry shall ber seat retain,

From beauteous Anna torn,
My beart shall breathe its ceaseless strain

Of sorrow o'er her urn.
There with the earliest dawn, a dove

Laments her murdered mate;
There Palomela, lost to love,

Tells the pale moon her fate,
With yew and ivy round me spread,

My Anna tbere I'll mourn ;
For all my soul - now she is dead,

Concentres in her urn.

SALLY IN OUR ALLEY. Of all the girls that are so smart,

There's none like pretty Sally: She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley. There's ne'er a lady in the land,

That's half so sweet as Sally, She is the darling of our heart,

And she lives in our alley.

Her father he makes cabbage nets,

And through the streets doth cry "em, Her mother, she sells laces long,

To such as please to buy 'em.
But sure such folks could ne'er beget

So sweet a girl as Sally,
She is the darting of my beart,

And she lives in our alley.
When she is by, I leave my heart,

I love her so sincerely,
My master comes like any Turk,

And bangs me most severely.
But let him bang his belly full,

I'll bear it all for Sally,
She is the darling of my lieart,

And she lives in our alley.
Of all the days that’re in the week,

I dearly love but one day,
And that's the day that's comes between

The Saturday and Monday.
For then I'm drest in all my best,

To walk abroad with Sally,
She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

My master carries me to church,

And often am I blamed,
Because I leave him in the lurch,

As soon as text is named.
I leave the church in sermon time,

And slink away to Silly,
She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

When Christmas comes about again,

Oh, I shall have some money,
I'll hoard it up, and box and all,

I'll give it to my hopey.
And would it were ten thousand pounds,

I'd give all to Sally,
She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.
My master, and the neighbours all,

Make game of me and Sally,
And but for her, I'd better be

A slave, and row a galley.
But when my seven long years are out,

Oh, then I'll marry Sally,
Oh, then we'll wed, and then we'll bed,

But not in our alley.

THE BEWILDER'D MAID, Slow broke the light, and sweet breath'd the morn, When a maiden I saw sitting under a thorn: Her dark hair hung loose on her bare neck of snow, Her eyes

look'd be wilder'd, her cheek pale with wo, Oh, whence is thy sorrow, sweet maiden ? said T, The green grave will answer, she said, with a sigh; The merry lark so sweetly did sing o'er her head, But she thought on her grief, and the “Battle,” she

said. The breeze murmur'd by, when she look'd up for

lorn, Hark! bark! didst thou hear—'twas the sigh of

the morn;

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