_Awliscombe_.
J.S.
* * * * *
In the sea-fight off Minorca, in 1756, a gunner had his right hand
shot off, just as he was going to fire off a gun. The brave fellow
took up the match, saying, quite unconcernedly, "So then you thought
that I had but one arm."
* * * * *
FLOWERS.
With each expanding flower we find
Some pleasing sentiment combin'd;
Love in the myrtle bloom is seen,
Remembrance to the violet clings,
Peace brightens in the olive green,
Hope from the half-closed iris springs,
Victory from the laurel grows,
And woman blushes in the rose.
* * * * *
GOOD MORROW, A SONG.
Fly, night, away!
And welcome day!
With night we banish sorrow;
Sweet air, blow soft,
Sunshine aloft,
To give my love good morrow!
Wings from the wind
To please her mind,
Notes from the lark I'll borrow;
Lark, stretch thy wing,
And tow'ring sing,
To give my love good morrow!
Ye violets blue,
Sweet drops of dew,
That shine in every furrow,
Fresh odours fling
On zephyr's wing,
To give my love good morrow!
Bright Venus, spare
Awhile thy car,
Thy Cupid, dove, and sparrow,
To waft my fair,
Like my own star,
To give the world good morrow!
G.
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