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No more the nymph, with haughty air,
Refuses Willy's kind address ;
Her yielding blushes shew no care,
But too much fondness to suppress.
No more the youth is sullen now,
But looks the gayest on the green,
While every day he spys some new
Surprising charms in bonny Jean.

A thousand transports crowd his breaft,
He moves as light as fleeting wind,
His former sorrows seem a jeft,
Now when his Jeany is turn'd kind :
Riches he looks on with disdain,
The glorious fields of war look mean;
The chearful hound and horn give pain,
If absent from his bonny Jean.

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

Throw the Wood Laddie.

O to moura ?

Thy presence cou'd ease me,

When naething can please me:
Now dowie I sigh 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 singing,

And primroses springing ;
Yet nane of them pleases my eye or my ear,
When throw the wood, laddie, ye dinna appear.
That I am forsaken, some spare no to tell :

I'm fash'd wi' their scorning,

Baith evening and morning;
Their jeering gaes aft to my heart wi' a knell,
When throw the wood, laddie, I wander my fell.

Then stay, my dear Sandy, nae langer away,

But quick as an arrow,

Haste here to thy marrow, Wha's living in langour, till that happy day, When throw the wood, laddie, we'll dance, fing and

play.

Down the Burn DAVIE.

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HÈ N trees did bud, and fields were green,

And broom bloom'd fair to see ;
When Mary was compleat fifteen,

And love laugh'd in her eye ;
Blyth Davy's blinks her heart did move

To speak her mind thus free,
Gang down the burn, Davie, love,

And I shall follow thee.
Now Davie did each lad surpass,

That dwelt on this burnside,
And Mary was the bonniest lass,

Just meet to be a bride ;
Her cheeks were rosie, red and white,

Her een were bonny blue ;
Her looks were like Aurora bright,
Her lips like dropping dew.

As

As down the burn they took their way,

What tander tales they said !
His check to hers he aft did lay,

And with her bosom play'd ;
Till baith at length impatient grown,

To be mair fully bleit,
In yonder vale they lean'd them down ;

Love only saw the rest.

What pass’d, I guess, was harmlefs play,

And naething sure unmeet ;
For, ganging hame, I heard them say,

They lik'd a wa’k fae sweet ;
And that they aften shou'd return

Sic pleasure to renew.
Quoth Mary, Love, I like the burn,

And ay shall follow you.

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SONG,

A

To the Tune of, Gilder Roy.
H! Cloris, cou'd I now but fit

As unconcern'd, as when
Your infant beauty cou'd beget

No happiness nor pain.
When I this dawning did admire,

And prais'd the coming day,
I little thought that rising fire,
Wou'd take

my
rest

away.

Your charms in harmless childhood lay,

As metals in a mine.
Age from no face takes more away,

Than youth conceal'd in thine :
But as your charms infenfibly

To their perfection prest; So love as unperceiv'd did fly,

And center'd in my breaft.

My

My passion with your beauty grew,

While Cupid at my heart,
Still as his mother favour'd you,

Threw a new flaming dari.
Each gloried in their wanton part ;

To make a lover, he
Employ'd the utmost of his art ;

To make a beauty, fhe.

A SONG

To the Tune of, The yellow-hair'd Laddie.
E

,
Approach from your sports,and attend to my strain;
Amonglt all your number a lover fo true,
Was ne'er so undone, with such bliss in his view.

Was ever a nymph fo hard-hearted as mine? She knows me sincere, and she sees how I pine; She does not disdain me, nor frown in her wrath, But calmly and mildly resigns me to death,

She calls me her friend, but her lover denies :
She smiles when I'm chearful, but hears not my sighs.
A bofom so flinty, so gentle an air,
Inspires me with hope, and yet bids me despair !

I fall at her feet, and implore her with tears :
Her answer confounds, while her manner endears ;
When softly she tells me to hope no relief,
My trembling lips bless her in spite of my grief.

By night, while I slumber, still haunted with care,
I start up in anguish, and figh for the fair :
The fair sleeps in peace, may she ever do so!
And only when dreaming imagine my wo.

Then

Then gaze at a distance, nor farther aspire,
Nor think she shou'd love, whom she cannot admire;
Hush all thy complaining, and dying her slave,
Commend her to heaven, and thyself to the grave.

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To the Tune of, When she came ben je bobed,

OME, fill me a bumper, my jolly brave boys,

Let's have no more female impert'nence and noise;
For I've try'd the endearments and pleasures of love,
And I find they're but nonsense and whimsies, by Jove,

When firft of all Betty and I were acquaint,
I whin'd like a fool, and the figh'd like a faint:
But I found her religion, her face, and her love,
Were hypocrisy, paint, and self-interest, by Jove,

Sweet Cecil came next with her languishing air,
Her out fide was orderly, modest and fair ;.
But her soul was sophisticate, so was her love,
For I found she was only a strumpet, by Jove.

Little double-gilt Jenny's gold charm'd me at last :
(You know marriage and money together does best.)
But the baggage forgetting her vows and her love,
Gave her gold to a (niv'ling dull coxcomb, by Jove.

Come fill me a bumper then, jolly brave boys ;
Here's a farewell to female impert'nence and noise :
I know few of the sex that are worthy my love ;
And for Strumpets and jilts, I abhor them, by Jove.

L.

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