A COUNTRY LIFE.

A SWEET country life is delightsome and charm- ing, When walking o'er the fields in a fair summer's morn- ing: Your fine towns, nor cities, nor lofty high towers, Are not to be compar'd to my green shady bowers, So little I regard your robes and fine dresses, Your velvets, and scarlets, your silks, and fine laces, That my own country wearing to me is more endear- ing, My pretty fringed mantle of my own spinning and weaving.

In the sweet month of May we retire to the moun- tains, Attending on our flocks by the clear pleasant fountains, And milking our cows in a fair summer's morning, The meadows and the fields as bright Pheobus is a- dorning, Your hautboy, your flute, your fiddle and your spin- net, Are not to be compar'd with the singing of the linnet, Here as I am lying on a green bed of rushes, Enchanted with the notes of the larks and the rushes.

Young Jemmy the ploy-boy gets up in the morning, And drives around his cattle as bright Phoebus first is dawning? And hears pretty Nancy behind the green bushes, Sing sweeter than the blue birds, the larks, or the thrushes, And now I must close, and conclude this fine ditty, Advising all the girls who are neat, fair and pretty, Never to forsake their own country employments, No cities, nor fine towns, can afford such enjoyments.

SAILOR'S FAREWELL.

THE topsail shivers in the wind, The good ship casts to sea; But still my soul, my heart and mind, Are Mary, moor'd with thee. For though thy Sailor's bound afar, Still love shall be his guiding star,

Should landsmen flatter when we've sail'd, Doubt all their artful tales; No gallant sailor ever fail'd, If Cupid fill'd his sails: Thou art the compass of my soul, Which steers my heart from pole to pole.

Syrens in every port we meet, More fell than rocks and waves, But sailors of Columbia's fleet, Are lover's and not slaves: No foes our courage shall subdue, Although we've left our heart with you

These are our cares; if you be kind, We'll scorn the dashing main. The rocks the billows, and the wind, The Turk and Algerine, Our Country's glory rests with you, Our sails are full sweet girls, adieu.