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92 PRINCE HOARE
Then for that reason, And for a season, Let us be merry Before we go.
To joy a stranger, A way-worn ranger, In every danger
My course I've run; Now hope all ending, And Death befriending, His last aid lending,
My cares are done : No more a rover, Or hapless lover, My griefs are over,
My glass runs low; Then for that reason, And for a season, Let us be merry
Before we go !
Curran.
XL THE ARETHUSA
COME, all ye jolly sailors bold,
Whose hearts are cast in honour's mould,
While English glory I unfold,
Huzza for the Arethusa ! She is a frigate tight and brave, As ever stemmed the dashing wave;
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