Sung by Mr. PYNE.--Composed by Mr. ROOKE.
Come away, come away, little fly!
Don't disturb the sweet calm of lore's nest;
If you do, I protest you shall die,
And your tomb be that beautiful breast.
Don't tickle the girl in her sleep,
Don't cause so much beauty to sigh;
If she frown, half the graces will weep,
If she weep, all the graces will die.
Come away, little fly, &c.
Now she wakes! steal a kiss and be gone;
Life is precious: away, little fly!
Should your rudeness provoke her to scorn,
You'll meet death from the glance of her eye.
Were I ask'd by fair Chloe to say
How I felt, as the flutterer I chid;
I should own, as I drove it away,
I wish'd to be there in its stead!
Come away, little fly, &c.
THE HEROES OF WATERLOO.
Address, written for a Benefit, at a Provincial Theatre, for the
Wounded Survivors, Families, and Relatives, of the Heroes of
Waterloo.
Once more Britannia sheathes her conqu'ring sword,
And Peace returns, by Victory restored;
Peace, that erewhile estranged, 'midst long alarms,
Scarce welcomed home, was ravish'd from our arms;
What time, fierce bounding from his broken chain,
Gaul's banish'd Despot re-aspired to reign;
Whilst at his call, prompt minions of his breath,
Round his dire throne rush'd Havoc, Spoil, and Death;
With wonted pomp his baleful ensign blazed,
And Europe shrunk, and shudder'd as she gazed.
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