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(3) With laurels crown’d, with wealth array'd.

Again I sought my native shade,

In hopes my long lost love to meet,

To lay my laurels at her feet;

Alas! I never saw her more!

My sanguine dreams of bliss are o'er:

My only pleasure’s now to gaze

On her lov'd grave on Calder-braes:





THE SNUG LITTLE ISLAND.

Neptune one day to Freedom did say.

If ever I liv’d upon dry land,

The spot I should hit on, would be little Britain.

Says Freedom, Why that’s my own island.

O what a snug little Island!

A right little, tight little island:

All the globe round, none can be found

So happy as this little island.

Julius Caesar, the Roman, who yielded to no man,

Came by water, he could'nt come by land;

And Dane, Pict and Saxon, their homes turn’d their backs on,

And all for the sake of our island.