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Tamo Tanto.

I.

O much I love thee, O my treasure ! That my flame no bound does know : Oh! look upon your fwain with pleasure, For his pain fome pity fhow.

II.

Oh! my charmer, tho' I leave you,
Yet my heart with you remains ;
Let not then my abfence grieve you,
Since with pride I wear your chains.

S

The beautiful Singer.

I.

Inging charms the blefs'd above,
Angels fing, and faints approve;
All we below

Of heaven can show,

Is that they both fing and love.

Sweet WILLIAM'S Ghoft.

I.

Here came a ghoft to Margret's door,
With many a grievous groan,

And ay he tirled at the pin,

But anfwer made the none.

O fweet Margret! O dear Margret !

I

pray thee fpeak to me;

Give me my faith and troth, Margret,
As I gave it to thee.

V.

Thy faith and troth thou's never get,
Nor yet will I thee lend,

Till that thou come within my bower,
And kiss my cheek and chin.

VI.

If I fhou'd come within thy bower,

I am no earthly man ;

And shou'd I kifs thy rofy lips,
Thy days will not be lang.

VII.

O fweet Margret! &c. as 4th flanza.

VIII.

Thy faith and troth thou's never get,
Nor yet will I thee lend,

Till you take me to yon kirk-yard,
And wed me with a ring.

My

IX.

My bones are buried in yon kirk-yard,
Afar beyond the fea;

And it is but my fpirit, Margret,
That's now speaking to thee.

X.

She ftretch'd out her lily-white hand,
And for to do her best,

Hae there's your faith and troth, Willy,
God fend your foul good rest.

XI.

Now he has kilted her robes of green
A piece below her knee,

And a' the live-lang winter-night
The dead corpfe follow'd fhe.

XII.

Is there any room at your head, Willy?
Or any room at your feet?

Or any room at your fide, Willy,
Wherein that I may creep?

XIII.

There's no room at my head, Margret ;
There's no room at my feet;

There's no room at my fide, Mar'gret,
My coffin's made fo meet.

XIV.

Then up and crew the red red cock,
And up then crew the gray,
'Tis time, 'tis time, my dear Margret,
That you were going away.

XV.

No more the ghost to Marg'ret said,
But with a grievous groan,

Evanish'd in a cloud of mist,

And left her all alone.

XVI.

Olay, my only true love, ftay,
The conftant Margret cry'd;

Wan

grew her cheeks, the clos'd her een, Stretch'd her foft limbs, and dy'd. VOL. IV.

Ee

Great

Great Lamentation for the Lofs of fweet

SENISINO,

I.

S mufing I rang'd in the meads all alone,

A beautiful creature was making her moan; Oh! the tears they did trickle full fast from her eyes : She pierc'd both the air and my heart with her cries. Oh! the tears, &c.

11.

I gently requested the cause of her moan,
She told me, her fweet Senifino was flown;
And in that fad pofture fhe'd ever remain,
Unless the dear charmer wou'd come back again.
And in, &c.

III.

Why, who is this mortal fo cruel, said I,
That draws fuch a stream from fo lovely an eye!
To beauty fo blooming what man can be blind!
To paffion fo tender what monster unkind!
To beauty, &c.

IV.

"Tis neither for man, nor for woman, said she,
That thus, in lamenting, I water the lee,
My warbler celeftial, fweet darling of fame,
Is a fhadow of fomething, a fex without name.
My warbler celeftial, &c.

V.

Perhaps, 'tis fome linnet, fome blackbird, faid I, Perhaps 'tis your lark that has foar'd to the sky; Come dry up your tears, and abandon your grief, I'll bring you another to give you relief.

Come dry, &c.

VI.

No linnet, no blackbird, no fky-lark, faid fhe,
But one much more tuneful by far than all three ;
My fweet Senifino, for whom I now cry,

Is fweeter than all the wing'd fongfters that fly.
My Sweet, &c.

VII.

Adieu, Farinelli, Cuzzoni likewise,
Whom stars and whom garters extol to the skies;
Adieu to the opera, adieu to the ball,
My darling is gone, and a fig for them all.
Adieu, &c.

The Virgin's Prayer.

I.

Upid, ease a love-fick maid,
Bring thy quiver to her aid:

With equal ardour wound the fwain
Beauty should never figh in vain.

II.

Let him feel the pleafing fmart,
Drive thy arrows through his heart;
When one you wound, you then destroy
When both you kill, you kill with joy.

Ungrateful NANNY.

I.

ID ever fwain a nymph adore,
As I ungrateful Nanny do?

Was ever fhepherd's heart fo fore,
Or ever broken heart fo true?
My cheeks are fwell'd with tears, but the
Has never wet a cheek for me.

- II:

If Nanny call'd, did e'er I ftay,

Or linger when she bid me run?
She only had the word to fay,

And all the with'd was quickly donę.
I always think of her, but the
Does ne'er beftow a thought on me.
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