Would you have a young virgin of fifteen years 237 Why fo pale and wan, fond lover We'll drink, and we'll never have done, boys While the lover is thinking Where oxen do low When Chloe we ply Wou'd you chufe a wife Why fhou'd a foolish marriage vow 248 253 Willy's rare, and Willy's fair 321 When betimes on the morn to the fields we repair 330 When the bright God of day 335 Whilft I alone your foul poffefst 338 When I was a young lad 357 When my locks are grown hoary 360 When thy beauty appears 370 Would fate to me Belinda give What tho' they call me country lafs 391 396 402 Whoe'er beholds my Helen's face 403 415 Were I laid on Greenland's coast 419 421 422 What woman cou'd do, I have try'd to be free 432 When With ev'ry grace young Strephon chose We have no idle pratting gay Philander fell a prize 438 439 443 V. Virgins are like the fair flower in its luftre 418 431 Ye 41 Ye fhepherds and nymphs that adorn the gay plain 47 Young Philander woo'd me lang 189 Ye blytheft lads and laffes gay 193 Young Corydon and Phillis 258 Ye beaux of pleasure 274 Yes I could love if I cou'd find 287 Young Roger of the mill 379 You meaner beauties of the night Young virgins love pleasure Ye nymphs and filvan gods 400 403 411 420 431 Bonny Bonny CHRISTY. H OW fweetly fmells the fimmer green! But fineft colours, fruits and flowers, Lofs a' their charms and weaker powers, When wand'ring o'er the flow'ry park, My thoughts with extafies rejoice, Whene'er fhe fmiles a kindly glance, Thus fang blate Edie by a burn, B She She fpake her favour with a look, My Chrifty!-witness, bonny ftream, H The Bush aboon TRAQUAIR. EAR me, ye nymphs, and every fwain, Tho' thus I languish, thus complain, That day fhe fmil'd, and made me glad, Yet now she scornful flees the plain, The fields we then frequented; If e'er we meet the fhews difdain, She looks as ne'er acquainted. The The bonny blush bloom'd fair in May, But now her frowns make it decay, Ye rural powers, who hear my ftrains, An O D E. To the Tune of, Polwarth on the Green, HO' beauty, like the rose, ΤΗ That Imiles on Polwarth Green, In various colours fhows, As 'tis by fancy feen: Yet all its different glories ly United in thy face, And vertue, like the fun on high, Gives rays to ev'ry grace. So charming is her air, So fmooth, fo calm her mind, That to fome angel's care Each motion feems affign'd: But yet fo chearful, fprightly, gay, As if for wings they ftole the ray C. But |