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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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