I gae then, my lafs, to win honour and fame, L The auld Goodman. Ate in an evening forth I went, A man and his wife was fa'n in a strife, But ay And cry'd ever, Alake, my auld goodinan. H E. Thy auld goodman that thou tells of, And ilka ane leugh him to fcorn ; He SHE. My heart, alake, is liken to break, When I think on my winfome John, His blinkin eye, and gate fae free, Was naething like thee, thou dosen'd drone. His rofie face, and flaxen hair, And a skin as white as ony fwan, Was large and tall, and comely withal, And thou'lt never be like my auld goodman. H E. Why doft thou pleen? I thee maintain, Now when our gear 'gins to grow fcant. SHE. Yes, I may tell, and fret myfell, In arms into a well-made bed; Thy courage is cauld, thy colour wan, auld goodman. Then coming was the night fae dark, And therefore wad nae langer stay; SONG. To the tune of, Valiant Jocky. On a beautiful, but very young Lady. Beauty from fancy takes its arms And ev'ry common face fome breast may move. Some in a look, a fhape, or air find charms, To justify their choice, or boaft their love. Z. But But had the great Apelles feen that face, When he the Cyprian goddess drew, Great nature would combine To fix the ftandard of her facred coin; II. But fince no painter e'er could take That face which baffles all his curious art; Content to be, like thee, inanimate, And like Prometheus' fire, At once inform the piece and give defire, The charming phantom I would grafp, and fly → O'er all the orb, though in that moment die, III. Let meaner beauties fear the day, Whose charms are fading, and submit to time; The graces which from them it steals away, It with a lavish hand still adds to thine. The god of love in ambush lies, And with his arms furrounds the fair, He points his conquering arrows in these eyes, Turn which way you will, Like Eden's flaming fword each way you kill; K 3 P. Lafs Lafs with a Lump of Land. I'E me a lafs with a lump of land, GE And we for life fhall gang the gither, Gi'e me a lafs with a lump of land, Should love turn dowf, it will find pleafure. I hate with poortith, though bonny, to meddle, Unless they bring cash, or a lump of land, They'se never get me to dance to their fiddle. There's meikle good love in bands and bags, TH The Shepherd ADONIS. I. HE fhepherd Adonis He, for a retirement, To the woods did refort. He |