(French Air.)

While I touch the string, Wreathe my brows with laurel, For the tale I sing Has, for once, a moral. Common Sense, one night, Tho' not used to gambols, Went out by moonlight, With Genius, on his rambles. While I touch the string, etc.

Common Sense went on, Many wise things saying; While the light that shone Soon set Genius straying. One his eye ne'er raised From the path before him; T'other idly gazed On each night-cloud o'er him. While I touch the string, etc.

So they came, at last, To a shady river; Common Sense soon past, Safe, as he doth ever; While the boy, whose look Was in Heaven that minute. Never saw the brook, But tumbled headlong in it! While I touch the string, etc.

How the Wise One smiled, When safe o'er the torrent, At that youth, so wild, Dripping from the current! Sense went home to bed; Genius, left to shiver On the bank, 'tis said, Died of that cold river! While I touch the string, etc.

THEN, FARE THEE WELL.