4
The Graces there were culling posies,
And found young Love among the roses.
Young Love, &c.
O happy day! O joyous hour!
Compose a wreath of ev'ry flow'r;
Let's bind him to us, ne'er to sever,
Young Love shall dwell with us for ever.
Eternal spring the wreath composes,
Content's Love among the roses.
Young Love, &c.
THE SAILORS EPITAPH.
Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling,
The darling of our crew;
No more he'll hear the tempest howling,
For death has brought him to.
His form was of the manliest beauty,
His heart was kind and soft;
Faithful below he and his duty,
And now he's gone aloft.
Tom never from his word departed,
His virtues were so rare;
His friends were many, and true-hearted,
His Poll was kind and fair;
And then he'd sing so blythe and jolly,
Ah! many's the time and oft;
