(8)
Triumphant returning at night with the spoil,
like Bacchanals shouting and gay,
How sweet with our bottle and lass to refresh,
and lose the fatigues of the day!
With sport, love, and wine, fickle fortune defy,
dull wisdom all happiness sours ;
Since life is no more than a passage at best,
let’s strew the way over with flow’rs.
THE SAILOR’S SONG.
WHEN it is night, and the mid-watch is come.
And chilling mists hang o’er the darken'd
Then sailors think of their far distant home, (main,
And of those friends they ne'er may see again.
But when the fight’s begun,
Each serving at his gun,
Should any thought of them come o'er your mind,
Think, only. should the day be won,
How ’twill cheer
The heart, to hear
That their old companion—he was one.
Or, my lad, if you a mistress kind
Have left on shore,—some pretty girl and true,
Who many a night doth listen to the wind,
And sigh to think how it may fare with you;
O! when the fight’s begun,
And serving at his gun,
Should any thought of her come o’er your mind,—
Think, only, should the day be won,
How ’twill cheer
Her heart to hear
That her own true sailor—he was one.
FINIS.
