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Let fortune pour her golden store,
Her laurel'd favours many,
Give me but this, my souls first wish,
The lass o' Arranteenie.
———
HUNTING CHORUS
What equals on earth the delight of the huntsman
For whom does life's cup more enchantingly flow?
To follow the stag thro' the forest and meadows,
When brightly the beams of the morning first glow.
Oh! this is a pleasure that's worthy of princes,
And health is in its wanderings can ever be found,
When echoing caverns and forests surround us,
More blythely the pledge of the goblet will sound.
Hark, follow, &c.
The light of Diana illumines our forests,
The shades where in summer we often retreat,
Nor is then the wolf in his covert securest,
The boar from his lair is laid at our feet.
O! this is a pleasure, &c.
———
ROSE OF LUCERNE, OR, THE SWISS TOY GIRL.
I've come across the sea,
I've braved every danger,
For a brother dear to me,
From Swiss-land a stranger;
Then pity, assist, and protect a poor stranger,
And buy a little toy of poor Rose of Lucerne.
A little toy, a little toy;
Then buy a little toy of poor Rose of Lucerne.
Come round me, ladies fair,
I've ribbands and laces,
I've trinkets rich and rare,
To add to the graces
Of waist, neck, or arm, or your sweet pretty faces
Then buy a little toy of poor Rose of Lucerne.
A little toy, a little toy;
Then buy a little toy of poor Rose of Lucerne.
