His fpirits reviving, He to her reply'd, I was ne'er fae furpris'd At the fight of a maid, Until I beheld thee
From love I was free;
But now I'm ta'en captive,
My fairest, by thee.
To the tune of, When abfent, &c. Hen abfent from the nymph I love, I'd fain shake off the chains I wear; But whilft I ftrive these to remove, More fetters I'm oblig'd to bear. My captiv'd fancy day and night Fairer and fairer reprefents Belinda form'd for dear delight,
But cruel cause of my complaints.
All day I wander through the groves, And fighing hear from ev'ry tree The happy birds chirping their loves, Happy, compar'd with lonely me. When gentle fleep with balmy wings To reft fans ev'ry weary'd wight, A thousand fears my fancy brings,
That keep me watching all the night.
Sleep flies, while like the goddess fair, And all the graces in her train, With melting miles and killing air Appears the cause of all my pain. A while my mind delighted flies
O'er all her sweets with thirling joy,
Whilft want of worth makes doubts arise, That all my trembling hopes destroy.
Thus while my thoughts are fix'd on her, I'm all o'er transport and defire ;
My pulfe beats high, my cheek appears All rofes, and mine eyes all fire. When to myself I turn my view,
My veins grow chill, my cheeks look wan: Thus whilft my fears my pains renew,
I fcarcely look or move a man.
HE carl he came o'er the croft, And his beard new shav'n,
He look'd at me, as he'd been daft,
The carl trows that I wad hae him. Howt awa, I winna hae him!
Na, forfooth, I winna hae him! For a' his beard new shav'n, Ne'er a bit will I hae him.
A filler broach he gae me nieft, To faften on my curchea nooked, I wor'd a wee upon my breast,
But foon, alake! the tongue o't crooked;
And fae may his, I winna hae him,
Na, forfooth, I winna hae him, Ane twice a bairn's a lafs's jeft; Sae
ony fool for me may hae him.
Th carle has na fault but ane ; For he has land and dollars plenty ; But wae's me for him! skin and bane Is no for a plump lafs of twenty. Howt awa, I winna hae him, Na, forfooth, I winna hae him, What fignifies his dirty riggs,
And cash, without a man with them.
But fhou'd my cankard dady gar Me tak him 'gainft my inclination, I warn the fumbler to beware,
That antlers dinna claim their station.. Howt awa, I winna hae him!
Na, forfooth, I winna hae him! I'm flee'd to crack the haly band,
Sae lawty fays, I fhou'd na hae him.
VIRTUE and WIT,
The Prefervatives of Love and Beauty.
To the tune of, Killikranky.
Onfefs thy love, fair blufhing maid, For fince thine eye's confenting, Thy fafter thoughts are a' betray'd, Ánd na-fays no worth tenting. Why aims thou to oppofe thy mind, With words thy with denying? Since nature made thee to be kind,. Reafon allows complying.
Nature and reason's joint confent Make love a facred bleffing, Then happily that time is fpent, That's war'd on kind careffing.. Come then, my Katie, to my arms, I'll be nae mair a rover ;
But find out heav'n in a' thy charms, And prove a faithful lover.
What you defign, by nature's law,
Is fleeting inclination,
That Willy-Wifp bewilds us a' By its infatuation.
When that goes out, careffes tire, And love's na mair in feafon, Syne weakly we blow up the fire,. With all our boafted reason.
The beauties of inferior caft
May ftart this juft reflection;
But charms, like thine, maun always laft, Where wit has the protection. Virtue and wit, like April rays, Make beauty rife the sweeter; The langer then on thee I gaze, My love will grow completer.
To the tune of, The happy Clown.
T was the charming month of May, When all the flow'rs were fresh and gay, One morning by the break of day,
Sweet Chloe, chaste and fair,
From peaceful flumber the arofe, Girt on her mantle and her ìose, And o'er the flow'ry mead fhe goes, To breathe a purer air.
Her looks fo fweet, fo gay her mien, Her handsome shape, and dress so clean, She look'd all o'er like beauty's queen, Dreft in her beft array.
The gentle winds, and purling ftream, Affay'd to whifper Chloe's name, The favage beafts, till then ne'er tame, Wild adoration pay.
The feather'd people, one might fee, Perch'd all around her on a tree, With notes of fweetest melody
They act a chearful part.
The dull flaves on the toil fome plow, Their wearied necks and knees do bow,
A glad fubjection there they vow,
To pay with all their heart.
The bleating flocks that then came by, Soon as the charming nymph they spy, They leave their hoarfe and rueful cry,
And dance around the brooks.
The woods are glad, the meadows fmile, And Forth that foam'd and roar'd ere while, Glides calmly down and smooth as oil,
Through all its charming crooks.
The finny fquadrons are content To leave their wat❜ry element, In glazie numbers down they bent, They flutter all along.
The infects, and each creeping thing, Join'd to make up the rural ring; All frisk and dance, if the but fing, And make a jovial throng.
Kind Phabus now began to rife, And paint with red the eastern skies, Struck with the glory of her eyes,
He fhrinks behind a cloud.
Her mantle on a bow fhe lays, And all her glory she displays,
She left all nature in amaze,
And skipp'd into the wood.
Lady ANNE BOTHWELL'S Lament.
Blow, my boy, lie ftill and fleep,
It grieves me fore to hear thee If thou'lt be filent, I'll be glad, Thy mourning makes my heart full fad. Balow, my boy, thy mother's joy, Thy father bred me great annoy. Balow, my boy, lie fill and fleep, It grieves me fare to hear thee weep.
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