THE

TEA-TABLE

MISCELLANY.

She fung-the youth attention gave,
And charms on charms espies :
Then all in raptures falls a flave,
Both to her voice and eyes.

VOL. II.

To CLARINDA.
A SON G.

To the Tune of, I wish my Love were in a Mire.

B

LEST as the immortal Gods is he,
The youth who fondly fits by thee,
And bears and fees thee all the while
Softly speak, and fweetly fmile, &c.
So fpoke and fmil'd the eastern maid;
Like thine, feraphick were her charms,
That in Circafia's vineyards Aray'd,
And bleft the wifeft monarch's arms.

A thousand fair of high defert, Strave to enchant the amorous king; But the Circaftan gain'd his heart, And taught the royal bard to fing.

Clarinda

Clarinda thus our fang infpires,

And claims the fmooth and highest lays,
But while each charm our bofom fires,
Words feem too few to found her praise.

Her mind in ev'ry grace complete,
To paint furpaffes human skill:
Her majefty, mixt with the sweet,
Let feraphs fing her if they will.
Whilft wond'ring, with a ravish'd eye,
We all that's perfect in her view,
Viewing a fifter of the sky,
To whom an adoration's due.

F

A SONG,

To the Tune of, Lochaber no more.

AREWELL to Lochaber, and farewell my Jean, Where heartfome with thee I've mony day been; For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more,

We'll may be return to Lochaber no more.
These tears that I fhed, they are a' for my dear,
And no for the dangers attending on weir,
Tho' bore on rough feas to a far bloody fhore,
May be to return to Lochaber no more.

Tho' hurrycanes rife, and rife every wind, They'll ne'er make a tempeft like that in my mind. Tho' loudeft of thunder on louder waves roar, That's naething like leaving my love on the fhore. To leave thee behind me, my heart is fair pain'd. By ease that's inglorious, no fame can be gain'd, And beauty and love's the reward of the brave, And I muit deserve it before I can crave.

Then glory, my Jeany, maun plead my excufe, Since honour commands me, how can I refufe? Without it I ne'er can have merit for thee, And without thy favour I'd better not be.

I gae then my lafs to win honour and fame,
And if I fhould luck to come gloriously hame,
I'll bring a heart to thee with love running o'er,
And then I'll leave thee and Lochaber no more.

The auld Goodman.

ATE in an evening forth I went,
A little before the fun gade down,
And there I chanc'd by accident,
To light on a battle new begun.
A man and his wife was fawn in a strife,
I canna well tell ye how it began ;
But ay the wail'd her wretched life,
And cry'd ever, alake my auld goodman.

HE.

Thy auld goodman that thou tells of,
The country kens where he was born,
Was but a filly poor vagabond,

And ilka ane leugh him to fcorn;
For he did spend, and make an end
Of gear that his fore-fathers wan,
gart the poor ftand frae the door,
Sae tell nae mair of thy auld goodman.

He

SHE.

My heart alake, is liken to break,

When I think on my winfome John,

His blinkan eye, and gate fae free,

Was naething like thee, thou dofend drone.

His rofie face, and flaxen hair,

And a skin as white as ony fwan,

Was large and tall, and comely withall,

And thou'lt never be like my auld goodman.

HE.

Why dost thou pleen? I thee maintain,
For meal and mawt thou disna want;
But thy wild bees I canna please,

Now when our gear gins to grow fcant.
Of houshold-stuff thou haft enough,
Thou wants for neither pot nor pan;
Of fiklike ware he left thee bare,
Sae tell nae mair of thy auld goodman.

SHE E.

Yes I may tell, and fret my fell,

To think on these blyth days I had, When he and I together lay

In arms into a well-made bed.

But now I figh, and may be fad,

Thy courage is cauld, thy colour wan,

Thou falds thy feet, and fa's asleep,

And thou'lt ne'er be like my auld good man.

Then coming was the night fae dark,
And gane was a' the light of day;
The carle was fear'd to mifs his mark,
And therefore wad nae langer stay,
Then up he gat, and he ran his way,
I trowe the wife the day fhe wan,
And ay the o'erword of the fray

Was ever,

B

alake auld goodman.

my

SONG.

To the Tune of, Valiant Jocx Y.

On a beautiful, but very young Lady.

EAUTY from fancy takes its arms,

Z.

And ev'ry common face fome breast may move. Some in a look, a fhape, or air find charms, To juftify their choice, or boaft their love.

But

But had the great Apelles feen that face,
When he the Cyprian goddefs drew,
He had neglected all the female race,
Thrown his firft Venus by, and copied you.
In that defign,

Great nature would combine

To fix the standard of her facred coin ;
The charming figure had enhanc'd his fame,
And shrines been rais'd to Seraphina's name.

II.

But fince no painter e'er could take

That face which baffles all his curious art; And he that ftrives the bold attempt to make, As well might paint the fecrets of the heart. O happy glass, I'll thee prefer,

Content to be like thee inanimate,

Since only to be gaz'd on thus by her,
A better life and motion would create.
Her eyes would infpire,

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, tho' in that moment die.

III.

Let meaner beauties fear the day,

Whofe charms are fading, and fubmit to time; The graces which from them it fteals away,

It with a lavish hand ftill 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,
Then hangs a fharpned dart at every hair,
As with fatal skill,

Turn which way you will,

Like Eden's flaming fword each way you kill
So ripening years improve rich nature's ftore,
And gives perfection to the golden ore.

P.

Lafs