Charles Robert Forrester Poems

1.
'I'll fly—yes, I'll fly from my country, I will,
For at ease I am ill;—
I'll go out of Britain, or out of my mind,
...

Oh! sadly sing my weeping Muse
'Till Echo mourn again;
An honest Tallow-Chandler's dirge,
Should be a melting strain.
...

One Sunday to the village church
Both old and young were flowing:
Oh! the bells were ringing merrily,
And beaux with belles were going.
...