HA

Hunting Song going out.

I.

Ark! away, 'tis the merry ton'd horn
Calls the hunters all up with the morn;
To the hills and the woodlands they steer,
To unharbour the out-lying deer.

CHORUS Of Huntsmen.

All the day long,

This, this is our fong,

Still ballooing,

And following;

So frolic and free,

Our joys know no bounds,

While we're after the hounds,

No mortals on earth are fo jolly as we.

II.

Round the woods when we beat, how we glow,
While the hills they all echo hillo;

With a bounce from his cover when he flies,
Then our shouts they refound to the skies.
All the day, &c.

III.

When we fweep o'er the valleys, or climb
Up the heath-breathing mountain fublime,
What a joy from our labour we feel!
Which alone they who taste can reveal.
All the day, &c.

The Return from the Chace.

HE fweet rofy morn peeps over the hills,

TH

With blushes adorning the meadows and fields; The merry, merry, merry horn calls, Come, come away, Awake from your flumbers, and hail the new day. The merry, &c.

The

II.

The ftag rous'd before us, away feems to fly, And pants to the chorus of hounds in full cry, Then follow, follow, follow the mufical chace, Where pleafure and vigorous health you embrace. Then follow, &c.

III.

The day's fport when over makes blood circle right, And gives the brisk lover fresh charms for the night; Then let us, let us now enjoy all we can while we may, Let love crown the night, as our sports crown the day. Then let us, &c.

The Girl that's blithe and gay.

Tune, Black Jock.

F all the girls in our town,

Or black, or yellow, or fair, or brown,
With their foft eyes, and faces fo bright;
Give me a girl that's blithe and gay,
As warm as June, and as fweet as May,
With her heart free, and faithful as light.
What lovely couple then cou'd be

So happy and fo bless'd as we !

On whom the sweetest joys wou'd smile,
And all the cares of life beguile,
Entranc'd in blifs each rapt'rous night.

Cr

CYNTHIA'S Perplexity.

I.

Ynthia frowns whene'er I woo her,
Yet she's vex'd if I give over;
Much fhe fears I fhould undo her,
But much more to lofe her lover;
Thus in doubting the refuses,
And not winning thus fhe lofes.

Prithee,

II.

Prithee, Cynthia, look behind you,
Age and wrinkles will o'ertake you ;
Then too late, defire will find you
When the power must forfake
Think upon the fad condition
To be pafs'd, yet wish fruition.

you.

Nought but Love.

I.

HE fun was funk beneath the hill,

THE

The western clouds were lin'd with gold,

The sky was clear, the winds were still,
The flocks were pent within the fold;
When from the filence of the grove,
Poor Damon thus despair'd of love!

II.

Who feeks to pluck the fragrant rofe
From the bare rock, or oozy beach;
Who from each barren weed that grows
Expects the grape, or blushing peach;
With equal faith may hope to find
The truth of love in womankind.

III.

I have no herds, no fleecy care,

No fields that wave with golden grain,
No pastures green, nor gardens fair,
A maiden's venal heart to gain :
Then all in vain my fighs must prove,
For I, alas! have nought but love.

IV.

How wretched is the faithful youth,

Since womens hearts are bought and fold?
They afk not vows of facred truth,

Whene'er they figh, they figh for gold.
Gold can the frowns of fcorn remove,
But I, alas! have nought but love.

Το

V.

To buy the gems of India's coaft,

What wealth, what treasure can fuffice? Not all their fhine can ever boast

The living luftre of her

eyes:

For thefe the world too cheap would prove;
But I, alas! have nought but love.

VI.

O Silvia! fince nor gems, nor ore,
Can with your brighter gems compare,
Confider that I offer more,

More feldom found a foul fincere:
Let riches meaner beauties move,
Who pays thy worth, muft pay in love.

W

Tell me, my Heart.

I.

Hen Delia on the plain appears, Aw'd by a thousand tender fears, I would approach, but dare not move: Tell me, my heart, if this be love?

II.

Whene'er she speaks, my ravish'd ear
No other voice but hers can bear,
No other wit but hers approve :
Tell me, my heart, if this be love?

III.

If the fome other fwain commend,'
Tho' I was once his fondest friend,
That inftant enemy I prove:
Tell me, my heart, if this be love!

IV.I

When she is abfent, I no more Delight in all that pleas'd before, The cleareft fpring, or fhady grove! Tell me, my heart, if this be love?

When

V. -
When arm'd with insolent disdain,
She feem'd to triumph in my pain;
I ftrove to hate, but vainly ftrove:
Tell me, my heart, if this be love?

A

CUPID miftaken.

I.

S after noon, one fummer's day,
Venus ftood bathing in a river,
Cupid a-fhooting went that way,

New ftrung his bow, and fill'd his quiver :
With skill he chofe his sharpest dart,
With all his might his bow he drew,
Swift to his beauteous parent's heart,
The too well-guided arrow flew.

II.

I faint! I die! the goddess cry'd:

O cruel! cou'dft thou find none other
To wreak thy fpleen on? parricide,

Like Nero, thou haft flain thy mother!
Poor Cupid, fobbing, scarce cou'd speak ;
Indeed, mamma, I did not know
Alas! how eafy the mistake,

I took you for your likeness Chloe.

A

ye:

SILVIA to ALEXIS.

Lexis, how artless a lover!
How bashful and filly you grow!
In my eyes can you never discover
I mean Yes, when I often fay No?
mean, &c.

I

When