[5]
His friends were many and true hearted,
his Poll was kind and fair.
And then he'd ſing ſo blithe and jolly,
ah! many the time and oft,
But mirth is turn'd to melancholy,
For Tom is gone aloft.
Yet ſhall poor Tom find pleaſant weather,
when he who all commands,
Shall give to call life's crew together,
the word to pipe all hands.
Thus Death, who Kings and Tars diſpatches,
Tom's life has vainly doft,
For though his body's under hatches,
his ſoul has gone aloft.
THE PHOENIX.
Once more kind Muſes it is your duty,
for to infuſe me with verſe ſublime,
My ſubject ſurely is now amuſing
as you have chooſe me for to define.
Ye mangling Po(illegible text)s don't dare oppoſe me,
for now my notions are rais'd on high,
Kind gods ſupport me thro' theſe my poſies,
in you I glory and ſtill rely.
One pleaſant evening for recreation,
as I was ranging down by the ſhore,
I ſpied a maiden, a lovely fair one,
I thought her Venus ſprung from the foam.
In admiration on her I gazed,
in deep amazement I ſtood to view,
This ſecond Phœnix excceding nature,
and for to praiſe her it is my due.
