Rt. Hon. Richard Brinsley Butler Sheridan.

CHORUS.

A GENERAL TOAST.

HERE's to the Maiden of blushing fifteen!
Now to the Widow of fifty!

Here's to the flaunting extravagant Quean;
And then to the Housewife that 's thrifty!

Let the Toast pass! drink to the Lass!
I warrant she'll prove an excuse for the Glass !

Here's to the Charmer, whose dimples we prize!
Now to the Damsel with none, Sir!

Here's to the Maid with her pair of blue eyes;
And now to the Nymph with but one, Sir!

CHORUS. Let the Toast pass! drink to the Lass! &c.

CHORUS.

CHORUS.

Here's to the Maid with her bosom of snow!
Now to her that 's as brown as a berry!
Here's to the Wife with a face full of woe;
And now to the Damsel that 's merry!

Let the Toast pass! drink to the Lass! &c.

For let them be clumsy, or let them be slim,
Young, or ancient; I care not a feather!
So fill us a bumper, quite up to the brim;
And e'en let us Toast them together!

Let the Toast pass! drink to the Lass! &c.

Rt. Hon. Richard Brinsley Butler Sheridan.

DON CARLOS' SONG.

HAD I a heart for falsehood framed,
I ne'er could injure you!

For though your tongue no promise claimed,
Your charms would make me true!

To you no soul shall bear deceit,

No stranger offer wrong;

But Friends in all the aged you'll meet,
And Lovers in the young!

But when they learn that you have blest
Another with your heart,

They'll bid aspiring Passion rest;

And act a Brother's part!

Then, Lady! dread not here deceit ;

Nor fear to suffer wrong!

For Friends in all the aged you'll meet,
And Brothers in the young!

Rt. Hon. Richard Brinsley Butler Sheridan.

DRIED be that tear, my gentlest Love!
Be hushed that struggling sigh!

Not Seasons, Day, nor Fate shall prove
More fixed, more true, than I!

Hushed be that sigh! be dried that tear!
Cease, boding doubt! cease, anxious fear!

Dost ask, How long my vows shall stay,
When all that 's new is past?

How long? my DELIA! Can I say
How long my life will last?

Dried be that tear! be hushed that sigh!
At least, I'll love thee till I die!

And does that thought affect thee too,
The thought of SYLVIO's death,
That he, who only breathes for you,
Must yield that faithful breath?

Hushed be that sigh! be dried that tear!
Nor let us lose our Heaven here!

THE HEAVING OF THE LEAD.

FOR England, when, with fav'ring gale,
Our gallant ship up Channel steered;
And, scudding under easy sail,

The high blue western land appeared;
To heave the lead, the Seaman sprang,
And to the Pilot cheer'ly sang,

'By the deep-Nine!'

And, bearing up, to gain the port,
Some well-known object kept in view,
An Abbey tower, a harbour Fort,
Or Beacon to the vessel true,

While oft the lead the Seaman flang,
And to the Pilot cheer'ly sang,
'By the mark-Seven!'

And, as the much-loved shore we near,
With transport we beheld the roof
Where dwelt the Friend, or Partner dear,
Of faith and love a matchless proof;
The lead once more the Seaman flang,
And to the watchful Pilot sang,

'Quarter less Five!'

THE MYRTLE AND BRAMBLE.

A FABLE.

LUXURIANT with perennial green,

A Myrtle young and lovely stood, Sole Beauty of the wintry scene,

The fairest daughter of the wood.

Close by her side a Bramble grew, Like other brambles rude with thorn, Who sickened at the pleasing view;

Yet what she envied, seemed to scorn!

Full oft, to blast each hated charm,
She called the fiery bolts of JOVE!
But Jove was too polite to harm
Aught sacred to the Queen of Love.

Yet was her rage not wholly crost!
BOREAS was to her wishes kind,

And from his magazines of frost,

He summoned forth the keenest wind.