The world recedes; it disappears! Heav’n opens on my eyes! my ears With sounds seraphic ring! Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! O Grave! where is thy victory? O Death! where is thy sting? GEORGE BUBB DODINGTON, LORD MELCOMBE 1691?-1762 _443._ _Shorten Sail_ Love thy country, wish it well, Not with too intense a care; ’Tis enough that, when it fell, Thou its ruin didst not share. Envy’s censure, Flattery’s praise, With unmoved indifference view: Learn to tread Life’s dangerous maze With unerring Virtue’s clue. Void of strong desire and fear, Life’s wide ocean trust no more; Strive thy little bark to steer With the tide, but near the shore. Thus prepared, thy shorten’d sail Shall, whene’er the winds increase, Seizing each propitious gale, Waft thee to the port of Peace. Keep thy conscience from offence And tempestuous passions free, So, when thou art call’d from hence, Easy shall thy passage be. --Easy shall thy passage be, Cheerful thy allotted stay, Short the account ’twixt God and thee, Hope shall meet thee on thy way. HENRY CAREY 1693?-1743 _444._ _Sally in our Alley_ Of all the girls that are so smart There’s none like pretty Sally; She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley. There is no lady in the land Is half so sweet as Sally; She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley. Her father he makes cabbage-nets, And through the streets does cry ’em; Her mother she sells laces long To such as please to buy ’em: But sure such folks could ne’er beget So sweet a girl as Sally! She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley. When she is by, I leave my work, I love her so sincerely; My master comes like any Turk, And bangs me most severely: But let him bang his bellyful, I’ll bear it all for Sally; She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley. Of all the days that’s in the week I dearly love but one day-- And that’s the day that comes betwixt A Saturday and Monday; For then I’m drest all in my best To walk abroad with Sally; She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley. My master carries me to church, And often am I blamèd Because I leave him in the lurch As soon as text is namèd; I leave the church in sermon-time And slink away to Sally; She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley. When Christmas comes about again, O, then I shall have money; I’ll hoard it up, and box it all, I’ll give it to my honey: I would it were ten thousand pound, I’d give it all to Sally; She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley.