Be damned he that dare not,

For my part, I'll spare not

To beauty afflicted a tribute to give.

Fill it up steadily,

Drink it off readily

Here's to the Princess, and long may she live!

And since we must not set Auld Reekie in glory, And make her brown visage as light as her heart; Till each man illumine his own upper story,

Nor law-book nor lawyer shall force us to part. In Grenville and Spencer,

And some few good men, sir,

High talents we honour, slight difference forgive; But the Brewer we'll hoax,

Tallyho to the Fox,

And drink Melville forever, as long as we live!

HUNTING SONG

1808

WAKEN, lords and ladies gay,

On the mountain dawns the day,

All the jolly chase is here,

With hawk and horse and hunting-spear! Hounds are in their couples yelling,

Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling,

Merrily, merrily, mingle they,

'Waken, lords and ladies gay.'

Waken, lords and ladies gay,

The mist has left the mountain grey,
Springlets in the dawn are steaming,
Diamonds on the brake are gleaming:
And foresters have busy been
To track the buck in thicket green;
Now we come to chant our lay,
'Waken, lords and ladies gay.'

Waken, lords and ladies gay,
To the green-wood haste away;
We can show you where he lies,
Fleet of foot and tall of size;

We can show the marks he made,

When 'gainst the oak his antlers frayed; You shall see him brought to bay,

'Waken, lords and ladies gay.'

Louder, louder chant the lay,

Waken, lords and ladies gay!
Tell them youth and mirth and glee
Run a course as well as we;

Time, stern huntsman, who can balk,
Stanch as hound and fleet as hawk?

Think of this and rise with day,

Gentle lords and ladies gay.

SONG

1808

O, SAY not, my love, with that mortified air,
That your spring-time of pleasure is flown,
Nor bid me to maids that are younger repair
For those raptures that still are thine own.

Though April his temples may wreathe with the vine, Its tendrils in infancy curled,

'Tis the ardour of August matures us the wine Whose life-blood enlivens the world.

Though thy form that was fashioned as light as a fay's Has assumed a proportion more round,

And thy glance that was bright as a falcon's at gaze Looks soberly now on the ground,

Enough, after absence to meet me again
Thy steps still with ecstasy move;

Enough, that those dear sober glances retain
For me the kind language of love.

THE RESOLVE

WRITTEN IN IMITATION OF AN OLD ENGLISH POEM, 1809

My wayward fate I needs must plain,
Though bootless be the theme;

I loved and was beloved again,

Yet all was but a dream:

For, as her love was quickly got,

So it was quickly gone;

No more I'll bask in flame so hot,

But coldly dwell alone.

Not maid more bright than maid was e'er

My fancy shall beguile,

By flattering word or feigned tear,

By gesture, look, or smile:

No more I'll call the shaft fair shot,

Till it has fairly flown,

Nor scorch me at a flame so hot

I'll rather freeze alone.

Each ambushed Cupid I'll defy

In cheek or chin or brow,

And deem the glance of woman's eye

As weak as woman's vow: