Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Poetry.
POETRY .
THE NORFOLK TURN 1 PPE . AN , AUNTIENT TALE . S countyes vaunts themselves in pyes , An . ! some in meate excelle ; For Turnippes of enormous size Faire Norfolke beares the belie .
Tlvlke tale an old nurse told to me , Which I relate to you ; And well I wcenc what nurses say , Is sacred all and true . At midnighte houre a hardie knighte Was pricking * o ' er the lev , t The starres and moons had lost their lighte . And he had loste his wave .
The windefiill toude andsharpe did blowe , The clouds amaine did poure , And such a night , as storyes shewe , " Was nivirseenebefore . I vaine hee saughte full halfe the nighte , No shelter colde hee spie : Pitie it were so bolde a knighte Y-sterv'd with cold sholdedye .
Now voices straunge assaile his eare , And yet ne house wasnie : Thoughte hee , the devil himselfe is here , Preserve me God on hie ! Then summon'd hee his courage hie , And thus aloud ' gan call ; Favs , gyantes , demons , come not nie , . For I defyeyouall !
When from a hollow turnippe neare Out jump'd a living wighie ; With friendly voice , and accentcleare , He thus addressd theknighte . ' Sir Knighte , ne demon divei'Ief ii here , ' Ne gyaunte keeps his house ; 'Buttway poor drovers ; goodman Vere , ' And honest Robin Rouse . ' We tweynehave taken shelter here , ' With oxen ninety-two ; ' And if you'll eiuer , nivir feare , ' There ' s roome enough for you . '
* Riding . t Meadow-ground . SONNET TO L I BERT Y ' . Y guardian of man ' s social bins , for C're The paths of danger gladly would ! tread . t For thee comentedjoin the glorious dead .
Who nobly scorn'd a life that was not free-. Sut worse than death it mads my soul to see The Lord ofRuin , by wild uproar led ! Hell ' s first born , Anarchy . ' exa ' t his head [ knee ! And seize thy . throne , and bid us bow the What though his iron sceptre blood-imt
brued , [ migh , Crush half the nations with resistless Never shall this firm spirit be subdued : — In chains , in exile still the chanted rite , 0 t . iberfv ! shall flow to thee renevv'd I 0 still be sea-girt Albion thy delightl . . D . LINES ,
On teeing a Failed Rose in the Bosom'cftbe heauTi ful MISS S ——A B -II . f , vain , my Sophy , do you strive To keep the fading rose alive , With Nature for your foe ; To Phoebus' rays the fragrant flotv ' r Alonecan own its vivid hour ,
And not " to hills ofsnem . THE AMICABLE BROTHERS' . . A CANTATA . BY STEWART LEWIS , ' Private Soldier in the Hopetovsn Ftnclhler .
• IMi ' ce pr . i pitria mori > HoK . RECITATIVE , As fam'd John Bull once walk'd h " u usual round , His three lov'd Brothers o ' erabowlhefound ; Brave Sandy , born near source of winding Tay ' [ clay
, ; And Patrick , sprung from fair Hibernian With honest Shon . ap Morgan , Shinkih Shones , [ hur bones ) ( Cot splut her nails !—Glamorgan rear'd ' Well met , 'cry'd John , ' my heroes stout and true , ' I ' ve . travers'd half the town in seeking you : ' Strange news I ' ve got—but comelet's
, hav ; a swig , ' You know dry speechesare not worth a fig . ' When he had dtank , and forward drawn his chair . His preniis'd news in song he did declare .
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Poetry.
POETRY .
THE NORFOLK TURN 1 PPE . AN , AUNTIENT TALE . S countyes vaunts themselves in pyes , An . ! some in meate excelle ; For Turnippes of enormous size Faire Norfolke beares the belie .
Tlvlke tale an old nurse told to me , Which I relate to you ; And well I wcenc what nurses say , Is sacred all and true . At midnighte houre a hardie knighte Was pricking * o ' er the lev , t The starres and moons had lost their lighte . And he had loste his wave .
The windefiill toude andsharpe did blowe , The clouds amaine did poure , And such a night , as storyes shewe , " Was nivirseenebefore . I vaine hee saughte full halfe the nighte , No shelter colde hee spie : Pitie it were so bolde a knighte Y-sterv'd with cold sholdedye .
Now voices straunge assaile his eare , And yet ne house wasnie : Thoughte hee , the devil himselfe is here , Preserve me God on hie ! Then summon'd hee his courage hie , And thus aloud ' gan call ; Favs , gyantes , demons , come not nie , . For I defyeyouall !
When from a hollow turnippe neare Out jump'd a living wighie ; With friendly voice , and accentcleare , He thus addressd theknighte . ' Sir Knighte , ne demon divei'Ief ii here , ' Ne gyaunte keeps his house ; 'Buttway poor drovers ; goodman Vere , ' And honest Robin Rouse . ' We tweynehave taken shelter here , ' With oxen ninety-two ; ' And if you'll eiuer , nivir feare , ' There ' s roome enough for you . '
* Riding . t Meadow-ground . SONNET TO L I BERT Y ' . Y guardian of man ' s social bins , for C're The paths of danger gladly would ! tread . t For thee comentedjoin the glorious dead .
Who nobly scorn'd a life that was not free-. Sut worse than death it mads my soul to see The Lord ofRuin , by wild uproar led ! Hell ' s first born , Anarchy . ' exa ' t his head [ knee ! And seize thy . throne , and bid us bow the What though his iron sceptre blood-imt
brued , [ migh , Crush half the nations with resistless Never shall this firm spirit be subdued : — In chains , in exile still the chanted rite , 0 t . iberfv ! shall flow to thee renevv'd I 0 still be sea-girt Albion thy delightl . . D . LINES ,
On teeing a Failed Rose in the Bosom'cftbe heauTi ful MISS S ——A B -II . f , vain , my Sophy , do you strive To keep the fading rose alive , With Nature for your foe ; To Phoebus' rays the fragrant flotv ' r Alonecan own its vivid hour ,
And not " to hills ofsnem . THE AMICABLE BROTHERS' . . A CANTATA . BY STEWART LEWIS , ' Private Soldier in the Hopetovsn Ftnclhler .
• IMi ' ce pr . i pitria mori > HoK . RECITATIVE , As fam'd John Bull once walk'd h " u usual round , His three lov'd Brothers o ' erabowlhefound ; Brave Sandy , born near source of winding Tay ' [ clay
, ; And Patrick , sprung from fair Hibernian With honest Shon . ap Morgan , Shinkih Shones , [ hur bones ) ( Cot splut her nails !—Glamorgan rear'd ' Well met , 'cry'd John , ' my heroes stout and true , ' I ' ve . travers'd half the town in seeking you : ' Strange news I ' ve got—but comelet's
, hav ; a swig , ' You know dry speechesare not worth a fig . ' When he had dtank , and forward drawn his chair . His preniis'd news in song he did declare .