The Battle of Blenheim. was a fummer evening, It done; And he before his cottage door She faw her brother Peterkin Roll fomething large and round, That he befide the rivulet In playing there had found; Old Kafpar took it from the boy, And then the old man fhook his head, 'Tis fome poor fellow's skull, faid he, I find them in the garden, for And often, when I go to plough, The ploughfhare turns them out; Now tell us what 'twas all about, It was the Englifh, Kafpar cry'd, But what they kill'd each other for, My father liv'd at Blenheim then, So with his wife and child he fled, With fire and fword the country round- But things like that, you know, must be They say it was a shocking fight But things like that, you know, muft be Great praife the Duke of Marlbro' won, Nay-nay-my little girl, quoth he, And every body prais'd the Duke But what good came of it at last ?— Why, that I cannot tell, faid he, But 'twas a famous victory. Henry the 4th's Invocation to Sleep. WOW many thousands of my poorest subjects Why rather, fleep, ly'st thou in smoky cribs, And hufh'd with buzzing night-flies to thy flumber; And lull'd with founds of fweeteft melody? Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monftrous heads, and hanging them the Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, is down!lown Uneafy lies the head that wears a crown. SHAKESPEAR. Extempore on seeing Hoole's Tragedy of Cyrus. M ASTER Hoole, Thou'rt not a fool: But, do not tire us S. THE The Wounded Soldier. HE fun was juft retir'd, the dews of eve The lonely nightingale began to grieve, Telling, with many a paufe, her tend'reft tale. No clamours loud difturb'd the penfive hour, And the young Moon, yet fearful of the night, Rear'd her pale crefcent o'er the burnifh'd tow'r, That caught the parting orb's ftill ling'ring light. 'Twas then, where peafant footsteps mark'd the way, A wounded Soldier feebly mov'd along, Nor aught regarded he the foft'ning ray, Nor the melodious bird's expreffive fong..... On crutches borne, his mangled limbs he drew, Then, as with strange contortions, lab'ring flow, Shook the firm texture of his tortur'd heart: One trembling tear hung ready to depart. "How chang'd," he cry'd, "is the fair scene to me, "Since last across this narrow path I went! "The foaring lark felt not fuperior glee, "Nor any human breast more true content. "When the fresh hay was o'er the meadow thrown, "Amidst the bufy throng I ftill appear'd; "My prowefs too at harvest time was fhewn, "While Lucy's carol ev'ry labour cheer'd. "The burning rays I fcarcely feem'd to feel, "If the dear maiden near me chanc'd to rove; "Or if the deign'd to share my frugal meal, "It was a rich repaft, a feast of love. "And when at evening, with a ruftic's pride, "I dar'd the sturdieft wrestlers on the green; "What joy was mine! to hear her at my fide, "Extol my vigour, and my manly mien. "Ah! now no more the sprightly lass shall run "To bid me welcome from the fultry plain; "But her averted eye my fight shall fhun, "And all our cherish'd fondeft hopes be vain. "Alas! my Parents, muft ye too endure gave birth! me "That I fhould gloom for ere your homely mirth, "Exist upon the pittance ye procure, "And make ye curfe the hour that "O hapless day! when, at a neighb'ring wake, "The gaudy ferjeant caught my wond'ring eye; "And as his tongue of war and honour fpake, "I felt a wish to conquer or to dieg |