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48

AIR XXI.

[_]

Tune, “Poddreen Mare.”

Jack.
Come all you gay Gallants, for pleasure who proul!
Come all you young Racers, who strain for the goal!
Come all you stout Wrestlers, who strive on the plain!
Come all you fond Merchants, who trade on the main!
Come all, who expend your short candle, in quest
Of phantoms, still follow'd, but still unpossest!
In vain you search, wander, strain, struggle, and steer!
The Prize you all wrestled, and run for, lay here.