 | Poems on several occasions |  |
135
On W. G. leaving the Army.
The gallant Captain Macheath
is return'd
To his dear wife, who long his absence mourn'd.
Now free from all the tumults of the wars,
And from the dreadful outcry of the tars:
All hands aloft; this was the sailors cry,
The ship's in danger, now we sink and die.
Then on his knees this hero straitway goes,
And to the seamen thus he vents his woes.
Pray, dear Sirs, tell me if the danger's nigh:
If so, oh! whither, whither shall I fly?
His looks and actions then too plain descry'd
A sight, which Decency alone must hide.
To his dear wife, who long his absence mourn'd.
Now free from all the tumults of the wars,
And from the dreadful outcry of the tars:
All hands aloft; this was the sailors cry,
The ship's in danger, now we sink and die.
Then on his knees this hero straitway goes,
And to the seamen thus he vents his woes.
Pray, dear Sirs, tell me if the danger's nigh:
If so, oh! whither, whither shall I fly?
His looks and actions then too plain descry'd
A sight, which Decency alone must hide.
136
But when to fam'd Spithead the fleet return'd;
And each brave soldier for more glory burn'd:
No force could daunt our Macheath's mighty soul,
When far from danger, none dar'd him controul;
Rejoicing he approach'd his native shore,
And vow'd to follow Marlbro' the world o'er.
Till the express arriv'd, immediately
Commanding them to sail for Germany:
Lo! then he took his bed with fears and cares,
Spreading abroad that deafness seiz'd his ears.
And each brave soldier for more glory burn'd:
No force could daunt our Macheath's mighty soul,
When far from danger, none dar'd him controul;
Rejoicing he approach'd his native shore,
And vow'd to follow Marlbro' the world o'er.
Till the express arriv'd, immediately
Commanding them to sail for Germany:
Lo! then he took his bed with fears and cares,
Spreading abroad that deafness seiz'd his ears.
The next recourse was to his loving wife;
Desiring, if she thought to save his life,
To get an order signed by his Grace,
Which might release him from that irksome place.
Desiring, if she thought to save his life,
To get an order signed by his Grace,
Which might release him from that irksome place.
The boon was granted, and away he comes,
Without the martial sounds of fifes and drums;
No honours being thought to cowards due,
Who thus deceive their King and Country too.
Without the martial sounds of fifes and drums;
No honours being thought to cowards due,
Who thus deceive their King and Country too.
| Poems on several occasions | |