So the blessings of thousands shall make up their lot, And each sporting box vie with Humanity's cot. XXXIII. THE BRITISH BOW. TUNE: True Blue. Sung at the Anniversary Meeting of the Royal British Bowmen, on the 12th of August, of which Society His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales is the Patron. 1 WHEN Britain's Isle, untaught to fear, 2 By it Caractacus maintain'd For many a year the field; By it Boadicea reign'd; And taught proud Rome to yield; Whene'er she drew the British Bow, She broke the ranks and thin'd the foe. 3 To save their cots from beasts of prey 4 Their guard, their pleasure still it prov'd, In peace, in war the same, With it in search of food they rov'd, With it they fought for fame; They fear'd nor beast, nor threat'ning foe, All yielded to the British Bow. 5 The noble art we now restore, Erst gallant Cambria's boast, The arms our great forefathers bore Again ado.n our coast, Our breasts with ancient ardour glow, Again we draw the British Bow. 6 Array'd the feather'd shaft to send And by their matchless skill bestow Fresh laurels on the British Bow. 7 While summer's smiles the fields adorn, Amidst the flow'ry plain; And still would have the world to know 8 Allay'd be each corroding care, And while we bend the British Bow, XXXIV. THE ARCHERS' BUGLE. 1 THE Bugle sounds, the Archers all The south wind scarcely stirs the trees, What crouds now throng the verdant lawn, For the Archers shoot for the Bugle horn. 2 The Butts are plac'd, the Targets' dyes And now behold the archer band, 3 Erect and firm, with steady eye, The strong-nerv'd hand they well apply, 4 Tho' all are good, yet some excel, Three rounds shall give up the amount,— Applause shall reign throughout the lawn, 5 Oh! happy art, from war to cease, XXXV. ADDRESS TO A FLY. THE SENTIMENT FROM STERNE. 1 AH silly, vain and buzzing Fly, 2 Again thou com'st-I have thee now- Go, get thee gone: with pardon flee, There's room i' th' world for thee and me. J. P. |