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Long the sport of fortune driv'n, To despair our thoughts were giv'n, Our odds will all be ev’n, Phely,

When we meet again, Phely, &c.

Now in dreary distant groves,
Tho' we moan like turtle doves,
Suffering best our virtue proves,
And will enhance our loves, Phely,

When we meet again, Phely, &c.
Joy will come in a surprize,
'Till its happy hour arise ;
Temper well your love-fick fighs,
For hope becomes the wise, Pbely.

When we meet again, Phely,
When we meet again, Phely,
Raptures will reward our pain,
And loss result in gain, Phely.

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To DELIA, on ber drawing him to

her Valentine.

To the Tune of, Black Eyed Sufan,


E powers ! was Damon then fo blest,

To fall to charming Delia's fhase : Delia, the beauteous maid, poffeft

Of all that's soft, and all that's fair ?
Here cease thy bounty, O indulgent heav'n,
I ask no more, for all my wish is given.

I came, and Delia smiling low'd,
She (mild, and show'd the happy name ;
With rising joy my heart o'erflow'd,
I felt and blest the new born-flame,

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May foftest pleasures careless round her move,
May all her nights be joy, and days be love.

She drew the treasure from her breast,
That breast where love and graces play,
O name beyond expression bleft!

Thus lodgʻd with all that's fair and gay.
To be so lodg'd! the thought is extasy,
Who would not with in paradise to ly?


The Faithful Shepherd.
To the Tune of, Auld lang syne.
VHEN fow'ry meadows deck the year,

And sporting lambkins play,
When spangld fields renew'd appear,

And musick wak'd the day ;
Then did my Chloe leave her bow's,

To hear my am'rous lay,
Warm’d by my love, the vow'd no pow'r

Shou'd lead her heart astray.

The warbling quires from ev'ry bough

Surround our couch in throngs, And all their tuneful art bestow,

To give us change of songs : Scenes of delight my soul poffessid,

I bless'd, then hug'd my maid ; I rob'd the kisses from her breast,

Sweet as a noon-day's shade.
Joy transporting never fails

To fly away as air,
Another swain with her prevails

To be as false as fair.
What can my fatal passion cure ?

I'll never woo again ;.
All her disdain I must endure,
Adoring her in vain.

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What pity 'tis to hear the boy

Thus sighing with his pain ;
But time and scorn may give him joy,

To hear her sigh again.
Ah! fickle Chloe, be advis'd,

Do not thyself beguile,
A faithful lover should be priz'd,

Then cure him with a smile.

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To Mrs. S. H. on her taking something

ill I said.

To the Tune of, Hallow Ev'n.



HY hangs that cloud upon thy brow?

That beauteous heav'n ere while serene?
Whence do these storms and tempests flow,
Or what this guft of paflion mean?
And muft then mankind lose that light,
Which in thine eyes was wont to shine,
And ly obscure in endless night,
For each poor filly speech of mine ?

Dear child, how can I wrong thy name,
Since 'tis acknowledg'd at all hands,
That could ill tongues abuse thy fame,
Thy beauty can make large amends :
Or if I durft profanely try
Thy beauty's pow'rful charms t upbraid,
Thy virtue well might give the lie,
Nor call thy beauty to its aid.

For Venus every heart t' ensnare,
With all her charms has decke thy face,
And Pallas with unusual care,
Bids wisdom heighten every grace,
Who can the double pain endure ;
Or who must not resign the field

To thee, celestial maid, secure
With Cupid's bow, and Pallas' shield ?

If then to thee such pow'r is given,
Let not a wretch in torment live,
But smile, and learn to copy heaven,
Since we must fin ere it forgive.
Yet pitying heaven not only does
Forgive th offender and th' offence,
But even itself appeas'd bestows,
As the reward of penitence.



The Broom of Cowdenknows.
OW blyth ilk morn was I to see

The swain come o'er the hill !
He skipt the burn, and flew to me:

met him with good will.
O the broom, the bonny bonny broom,

The broom of Cowdenknows ;
I wish I were with my dear fwain,

With his pipe and my ews.

I neither wanted ew nor lamb,

While his flock near me lay : He gather'd in my sheep at night,

And chear'd me a' the day. O the broom, &c.

He tun'd his pipe and reed fae sweet,

The burds stood liftning by :
E’en the dull cattle stood and gaz'd,

Charm'd with his melody.
O the broom, &c.

While thus we spent our time by turns,

Betwixt our flocks and play : I envy'd not the faireit dame,

Tho' ne'er sae rich and gay. O the broom, &c.

Hard Hard fate that I shou'd banith'd be,

Gang heavily and mourn, Because I lov'd the kindert swain

That ever yet was born. O the broom, &c.

He did oblige me every hour,

Cou'd I but faithfu' be?
He staw my heart : Cou'd I refuse

Whate'er he ask'd of me?
the broom, &c.

My doggie, and my little kit

That held my wee foup whey,
My plaidy, broach, and crooked stick,

May now ly useless by.
O the broon, &c.

Adieu, ye Cowderknows, adieu,

Farewell a' pleasures there ;
Ye gods, restore me to my swain,

Is a' I crave or care.
O the broom, the bonny bonny broom,

The broom of Cowdenknows :
I wish I were with my dear fwain,

With his pipe and my ews,

S. R.


To the Tunc of, I wil my Love were in a Mire.

O ?

Lovely maid ! how dear's thy pow'r?

At once I love, at once adore : With wonder are my thoughts pofseft, While softest love inspires my breaft. This iender look, thefe eyes of mine, Confefs their am'rous master thine ;


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