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May on, mare on to the brazen trumpet (illegible text) How quickly in battle array Each brave Highland chief assembles And they march to the bagpipe so gay. Here's success, &c."
MY OWN BLUE BELL. 1
My own blue bell, my pretty blue bell, I never will move where roses dwell; My wings you view of your own bright hue, And, oh! never doubt that my heart's true blue Though oft, I own, I've foolishly flown, To peep at each bud that was newly blown, I now have done with folly and fun, For there's nothing like constancy under the sun My own blue bell, &c.
Some Belles are Blues, invoking the Muse And talking of vast intellectual views : Their crow-quills' tip in the ink they dip, And they prate with the lore of a learned lip. Blue Belles like these, may be wise as they please, But I love my blue bell that bends in the breeze; Pride passes her by, but she charms my eye, With a tint that resembles the cloudless sky. My own bell, &c.
THE BAY OF BISCAY O!
Loud rear'd-the dreadful thunder ! The rain a deluge showers ! The clouds were rent asunder By lightning's vivid powers ! The night both drear and dark Our poor devoted bark, Till' next day, There she lay, In the Bay of Biscay !
Now dash'd upon the billow, Our opening timbers creak ! Each fears a watery pillow,
