| First Line |
Page |
Verses |
| Ye sons of France awake to glory |
3-4 |
4 |
| Our immortal poet's page |
5-8 |
8 |
| Cease, rude boreas, boisterous railer |
8-10 |
18 |
| Beautious charmer, pride of nature |
10 |
3 |
| |
11 |
|
| |
12 |
|
| Ling'ring winds that feebly blow, The |
13-14 |
5 |
| Bold Jack the sailor here I come |
14-15 |
5 |
| Breeze was fresh, the ship in stays, The |
15-16 |
3 |
| Dear Tom, this brown jug that now foams with mild ale |
16-17 |
3 |
| Rose tree in full bearing, A |
17 |
2 |
| When Mary heard young Sandy's tale |
18 |
|
| Come all you merry bachelors |
19-21 |
8 |
| O Dear! what can the matter be? |
21-22 |
8 |
| Lovely nymph, assuage my anguish |
22 |
2 |
| When late I wander'd o'er the plain |
23 |
4 |
| Rail, no more, ye learned asses |
23-24 |
2 |