Cur griers will find a speedier way!
The ace stal bring them twice a day!
Whaaa à à a!

The King with wonder and surprise,
Wink the sea's grown boid!
For that the tide does higher rise
Than e'er it did of old:

But let him know, that 'tis our tears
Send Boods of grief to Whitehall Stairs!
With a fa, la, la, la, la!

Should Count TOULOUSE but come to know
Our sad and dismal story;
The French would scorn so weak a foe,
Where they can get no glory!

For what resistance can they find

From men, who've left their hearts behind! With a fa, la, la, la, la!

To pass our tedious time away,
We throw the merry Main;
Or else at serious Ombre play.
But why should we, in vain,
Each other's ruin thus pursue?
We were undone, when we left you!
With a fa, la, la, la, la!

When any mournful tune you hear,
That dies in ev'ry note,

As if it sighed for each man's care,

For being so remote:

Then think, How often love we've made

To you! while all those tunes were played. With a fa, la, la, la, la!

Let wind and weather do their worst;
Be you, to us but kind!

Let Frenchmen vapour! Dutchmen curse!
No sorrows we shall find!

'Tis then, no matter how things go! Nor who's our friend! [n]or who 's our foe! With a fa, la, la, la, la!

Thus, having told you all our loves,
And likewise all our fears;
In hopes this Declaration moves
Some pity to our tears,

Let's hear of no inconstancy!

We have too much of that at sea!
With a fa, la, la, la, la!

A COUNTRY LIFE.

How sacred and how innocent
A Country Life appears!
How free from tumult, discontent;
From flattery, or fears!

This was the first and happiest life,
When Man enjoyed himself;
Till pride exchangèd peace for strife,
And happiness for pelf!

'Twas here, the Poets were inspired; Here, taught the multitude!

The brave, they here with honour fired; And civilized the rude!

That Golden Age did entertain
No Passion but of Love;

The thoughts of ruling, and of gain,
Did ne'er their fancies move!

None then did envy neighbour's wealth,
Nor plot to wrong his bed:

Happy in friendship and in health,
On roots, not beasts, they fed.

They knew no Law, nor Physic then;
Nature was all their wit!

And if there yet remain to men
Content; sure, this is it!

What blessings doth this World afford
To tempt, or bribe, desire!
Her courtship is all fire and sword;
Who would not then retire!

Then, welcome, dearest Solitude!
My great felicity!

Though some are pleased to call thee 'rude,'
Thou art not so; but we!

Them that do covet only rest,
A cottage will suffice!

It is not brave to be possest
Of earth; but to despise!

Opinion is the rate of things;
From hence our peace doth flow.

I have a better fate than Kings;
Because I think it so!

When all the stormy World doth roar;
How unconcerned am I!

I cannot fear to tumble lower,

Who never could be high.

Secure in these unenvied walls,
I think not on the State!
And pity no man's case, that falls
From his ambition's height!

Silence and Innocence are safe!
A heart that's noble true,
At all these little arts can laugh,
That do the World subdue.

While others revel it in State;
Here, I'll contented sit,
And think I have as good a fate
As Wealth and Pomp admit!

Let some in courtship take delight, And to th' Exchange resort; Then revel out a winter's night, Not making love, but sport!

These never know a noble flame!
'Tis lust! scorn! or design!
While Vanity plays all their game;
Let Peace and Honour, mine!

When the inviting Spring appears, To Hyde Park let them go; And, hasting hence, be full of fears

To lose Spring Garden's show.