Of my dear Delia take a care,

And reprefent her lover

With all the gaiety of youth,

With honour, juftice, love, and truth;
Till I return, her paffions footh,
For me in whifpers move her.

Be careful no base fordid slave,
With foul funk in a golden grave,
Who knows no virtue but to fave,

With glaring gold bewitch her. Tell her, for me fhe was defign'd, For me, who know how to be kind, And have mair plenty in my mind,

Than one who's ten times richer.

Let all the world turn upfide down,
And fools run an eternal round,
In queft of what can ne'er be found,
To please their vain ambition.
Let little minds great charms efpy,
In fhadows which at diftance lie,

Whofe hop'd for pleafure, when come nigh,
Prove nothing in fruition.

D 3

But

But caft into a mold divine,
Fair Delia does with luftre fhine,
Her virtuous foul's an ample mine,

Which yields a conftant treasure.
Let poets in fublimeft lays,
Employ their skill her fame to raise
Let fons of mufic pafs whole days,

;

With well-tun'd reeds to please her.

The YELLOW-HAIR'D LADDIE.

N April, when primroses paint the fweet plain, And fummer approaching rejoiceth the swain ; The Yellow-hair'd laddie would oftentimes go

To wilds and deep glens, where the hawthorn trees grow.

There, under the fhade of an old facred thorn,
With freedom he fung his loves ev'ning and morn :
He fang with fo faft and enchanting a found,
That Silvans and Fairies unfeen danc'd around.

The fhepherd thus fung, Tho' young Maya be fair, Her beauty is dafh'd with a fcornfu' proud air ;. But Sufie was handfome, and fweetly could fing, Her breath like the breezes perfum'd in the fpring.

That Madie in all the gay bloom of her youth, Like the moon was inconftant, and never spoke truth : But Sufe was faithful, good-humour'd, and free, And fair as the goddefs who fprung from the fea.

That mamma's fine daughter with all her great dow'r, Was awkwardly airy, and frequently four : Then, fighing, he wished, would parents agree, The witty fweet Sufie his miftrefs might be.

W

Hile fome for pleasure pawn their health,.
"Twixt Lais and the Bagnio,
I'll fave myself, and without ftealth,
Kifs and carefs my Nanny - O.
She bids more fair t'engage a Jove
Than Leda did or Danae O.
Were I to paint the queen of love,
None else should fit but Nanny

O..

How joyfully my fpirits rife,
When dancing she moves finely
I guess what heaven is by her eyes,
Which sparkle fo divinely — Ó.
Attend my vow, ye gods, while I
Breathe in the blefs'd Britannia,
None's happiness I fhall envy,
As long's ye grant me Nanny - 0.

0;

CHORUS.
My bonny, bonny Nanny — O,
My lovely charming Nanny - O.
I care not though the aworld know
How dearly I love Nanny - O.

L

BONNY JEAN.

Ove's goddess in a myrtle grove,

Said, Cupid, bend thy bow with speed,

Nor let the fhaft at random rove,

For Jeany's haughty heart must bleed.
The smiling boy, with divine art,
From Paphos fhot an arrow keen,
Which flew, unerring, to the heart,
And kill'd the pride of bonny Jean.

No

No more the nymph, with haughty air,
Refufes Willie's kind addrefs;
Her yielding blushes fhew no care,
But too much fondness to fupprefs.
No more the youth is fullen now,
But looks the gayet on the green,
While ev'ry day he fpies fome new
Surprising charms in bonny Jean.

A thoufand tranfports croud his breaft,
He moves as light as fleeting wind,
His former forrows feem a jeft,
Now when his Jeany is turn'd kind :
Riches he looks on with difdain,
The glorious fields of war look mean ;
The chearful hound and horn give pain,
If abfent from his bonny Jean."

The day he spends in am'rous gaze,
Which even in fummer fhorten'd feems;
When funk in downs, with glad amaze,
He wonders at her in his dreams.
All charms difclos'd, fhe looks more bright
Than Troy's prize, the Spartan queen,
With breaking day, he lifts his fight,
And pants to be with bonny Jean.

Throw the Wood, Laddie.

Sandy, why leaves thou thy Nelly to mourn?
Thy prefence cou'd ease me,

When naething can pleafe me :

Now dowie I figh on the bank of the burn,

Or throw the wood, laddie, until thou return.

Tho'

Tho' woods now are bonny, and mornings are clear, While lav'rocks are finging,

And primrofes fpringing;

Yet nane of them pleases my eye or my ear,
When through the wood, laddie, ye dinna appear.

That I am forfaken, fome spare not to tell :
I'm fafh'd wi' their fcorning,

Baith ev'ning and morning;

Their jeering gaes aft to my heart wi' a knell,
When throw the wood, laddie, I wander myfell.

Then ftay, my dear Sandy, nae langer away,
But quick as an arrow,

Hafte here to thy marrow,

Wha's living in languor, till that happy day, When through the wood, laddie, we'll dance, fing, and play.

W

Down the Burn, Davie.

Hen trees did bud, and fields were green,
And broom bloom'd fair to fee;

When Mary was complete fifteen,

And love laugh'd in her eye;

Blyth Davie's blinks her heart did move
To speak her mind thus free,

Gang down the burn, Davie, love,

And I fall follow thee.

Now Davie did each lad furpafs,

That dwelt on this burn-fide,

And Mary was the bonnieft lafs,
Juft meet to be a bride;

Her cheeks were rofy, red, and white,
Her een were bonny blue;

Her looks were like Aurora bright,.
Her lips like dropping dew.