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Thus, Delia, this I paint the scene,
when we shall shortly meet;
And try what yet remains between,
of loit'ring time to cheat!
But if the dream that soothes my mind,
shall false and groundless prove;
If I am doom'd at length to find
you have forgot to love:
All I of Venus ask, is this,
no more to let us join;
But grant me here the flatt'ring bliss,
to die and think you mine.
← → ← → ← → ← → ← → ← → ← → ← → ← → ← →
LET then your ancient honour shine.
Prepare your arms and form the line.
You see the French they did design.
To overthrow this nation:
We’ll sooner die than we will run.
While we can stand-with sword and gun,
We'll fight like ancient Britain’s sons.
The raging main with blood we’ll stain,
The Duke of York we will maintain.
While we have shot and powder.
You see the Convention did combine.
In hopes the victory to obtain,
But brave Lord Howe did them disdain,
Tho’ Jacobins supply them;
Our little Isle will not comply,
