Page:Humours of Gravel-Lane, or, The cobler's daughter's wedding.pdf/7

[ 7 ] But in the field, alas! as in the ſtate, The greateſt merit meets the hardeſt fate; Wolfe falls, Britannia’s Genius gave a groan. And Fame immortal ſeal’d him for her own, Streaming in blood he rolls his livid eyes, And hearing ſhouts, has England loſt? he cries, O no! I view the Victor's Colours fly, My country conquers, and in peace I die. Yet ere his ſoul it’s deſtin’d journey ſped, He ſigh’d, and thus to his attendants ſaid.

A I R.

Farewel, my friends. Britannia now adieu, I die contented, ſince ! bleed for you; Victory now his wings expands, To ſmooth the trachiefs way, And peace immortal opes its hands, To lead me up to day. My country’s ſerv’d. I ask no greater ſame, Thou is contained in a Briton’s name.

Ill you credit a Miſer, ’tis gold makes us wiſe, The bliſs of his life, the joy of his eyes: And aſk a fond lever, where wiſdom he places, To be ſure in his miſtreſs her charms her graces; But let the free lad ſpeak the joy of his ſoul, T’is a ſparkling Glaſs, and a ſmiling full Bowl.

The Miſer is wretched, unhappy and poor; He ſuffers great want in the midſt of his ſtore: The lover’s diſconſolate,-mopiſh, and fad, Fortbat which when gain’d will ſoon make him mad, The Miſer's a Fool, and the Lover's an Aſs, And be only’s Wiſe, who adores the full Glaſs.