The BOB of DUMBLANE. ASSIE, lend me your braw hemp heckle, And I'll lend you my thripling kame; For fainnefs, deary, I'll gar ye keckle, Be frank, my laffie, left I grow fickle, Ye did nae accept of the Bob of Dumblane. SONG complaining of Abfence. A H Chloe! thou treasure, thou joy of my breast, Since I parted from thee, I'm a stranger to reft, I fly to the grove, there to languish and mourn, There figh for my charmer, and long to return, The fields all around me are fmiling and gay, But they fmile all in vain my Chloe's away: The field and the grove can afford me no eafe, But bring me my Chloe, a defart will please. No virgin I fee that my bofom alarms, I'm cold to the faireft, tho' glowing with charms, In vain they attack me, and sparkle the eye; These are not the looks of my Chloe, I cry. Thefe 家 These looks where bright love, like the fun, fits enthron'd, And fmiling diffufes his influence round, 'Twas thus I first view'd thee, my charmer, amaz'd; Thus gaz'd thee with wonder, and lov'd while I gaz'd. Then, then the dear fair one was ftill in my fight, But abfence and torment abate not my flame, R. B SONG. To the Tune of, I fixed my Fancy on ber. RIGHT Cynthia's power divinely great, A thousand Cupids on her wait, And in her eyes are playing. She feems the queen of love to reign; Such fweets as beft can entertain Her face a charming profpect brings, C 6 X. ASONG.. A SON G. To the Tune of, I loo'd a bonny Lady. TE ELL me, tell me, charming creature, Muft I die for every feature? Is the pleasure you pursue; Tears and fighing could not move you ; Then you faid I went too far. Let their flaves be what they will. Your neglect with torment fills me, You will have a lover lefs. If your wand'ring heart is beating. But when you have done coquetting, The REPLY. IN win, fond youth, ; thy tears give o'er ; more, can Thy truth I own, thy fate deplore : Supprefs Suppress thofe fighs, and weep no more ; Should heaven and earth with thee combine, "Twere all in vain, fince any power, To crown thy love muft alter mine. But if revenge can ease thy pain, X. The Rofe in Y ARROW. 'Tw To the Tune of, Mary Scot. WAS fummer, and the day was fair, Will cruel love no bribe receive ? Had I of heaven but one request, There would I live or die with pleasure, I'd mile at courts and courtiers fate; My joy complete on fuch a marrow, But tho' fuch bliss I ne'er fhould gain, A The fair PENITENT. A SONG,-To its ain Tune. Lovely lafs to a frier came To confefs in a morning early. In what, my dear, art thou to blame? I've done, Sir, what I dare not name, The greateft fault in myself I know, Then you to Rome for that must go, There difcipline to fuffer. Lake a day, Sir! if it must be fo, No, no, my dear, you do but dream, I must own, Sir, tho' I blush for fhame, C. X. The |