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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

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V.

Virgins are like the fair flower in its luftre
Virgins, if e'er at last it prove

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Where oxen do low
When Chloe we ply
Wou'd you chufe a wife

Why fhou'd a foolish marriage vow
When lovely Phillis thou art kind
Why we love, and why we hate
When bright Aurelia tript the plain
While filently I lov'd, nor dar'd
We all to conquering beauty bow
Willy's rare, and Willy's fair

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When betimes on the morn to the fields we repair 330

When the bright God of day
Whilft I alone your soul possest
When I was a young lad
When my locks are grown hoary
When thy beauty appears
Would fate to me Belinda give
When Delia on the plain appears
What tho' they call me country lafs
Whoe'er beholds my Helen's face
Why will Florella, when I gaze
Were I laid on Greenland's coast
When you cenfure the age
What gudgeons are we men

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What woman cou'd do, I have try'd to be free 432
When
gay Philander fell a prize
With ev'ry grace young Strephon chofe
We have no idle pratting

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Ye

4.

Ye powers! was Damon then fo bleft
Ye Gods! was Strephon's picture bleft
Ye gales that gently wave the fea
Ye watchful guardians of the fair

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Ye fhepherds and nymphs that adorn the gay plain 47
Young Philander woo'd me lang
Ye blytheft lads and laffes gay
Young Corydon and Phillis
Ye beaux of pleasure

Yes I could love if I cou'd find
You may cease to complain
Ye virgin powers, defend my heart
You that love mirth, attend to my song
Yes, all the world will fure agree
Ye highlands and ye lawlands
Young Roger came tapping
Young Roger of the mill
Young virgins love pleasure
You meaner beauties of the night
Ye nymphs and filvan gods
Youth's the feafon made for joys
Ye powers that o'er mankind prefide

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Bonny

༢Ê

Bonny CHRISTY.

Η

OW fweetly fmells the fimmer green! Sweet taste the peach and cherry; Painting and order please our een, And claret makes us merry: But fineft colours, fruits and flowers, And wine, tho' I be thirsty, Lofs a' their charms and weaker powers, Compar'd with those of Chrifty.

When wand'ring o'er the flow'ry park,
No nat❜ral beauty wanting,
How lightsome is't to hear the lark,
And birds in confort chanting?
But if my Chrifty tunes her voice,
rapt in admiration ;

I'm

My thoughts with extafies rejoice,
And drap the hale creation.

Whene'er the fmiles a kindly glance,
I take the happy omen,
And aften mint to make advance,
Hoping fhe'll prove a woman:
But dubious of my ain defert,

My fentiments I fmother;
With fecret fighs I vex my heart,
For fear the love another.

Thus fang blate Edie by a burn,
His Chrifty did o'er-hear him;
She doughtna let her lover mourn,
But e'er he wift drew near him.
VOL. I.
B

She

She spake her favour with a look,

Which left nae room to doubt her; He wifely this white minute took, And flang his arms about her.

My Chrifty!-witness, bonny ftream,
Sic joys frae tears arifing,
I wish this may na be a dream?
O love the maist surprising!
Time was too precious now for tauk ;
This point of a' his wishes
He wadna with fet fpeeches bauk,
But war'd it a' on kiffes.

The Bush aboon TRAQUAIR.

HE

EAR me, ye nymphs, and every swain,
I'll tell how Peggy grieves me,
Tho' thus I languish, thus complain,
Alas! fhe ne'er believes me.
My vows and fighs, like filent air,
Unheeded never move her ;

At the bonny bush aboon Traquair, 'Twas there I firft did love her.

That day fhe fmil'd, and made me glad,
No maid feem'd ever kinder;
I thought myself the luckieft lad,
So fweetly there to find her.

I try'd to footh my am'rous flame,
In words that I thought tender;
If more there pafs'd, I'm not to blame,
I meant not to offend her.

Yet now she scornful flees the plain,
The fields we then frequented;
If e'er we meet fhe fhews difdain,
She looks as ne'er acquainted.

The

The bonny blush bloom'd fair in May,
Its fweets I'll ay remember;
But now her frowns make it decay,
It fades as in December.

Ye rural powers, who hear my strains,
Why thus fhould Peggy grieve me?
Oh! make her partner in my pains,

Then let her fmiles relieve me.
If not, my love will turn defpair,
My paffion no more tender,
I'll leave the bufh aboon Traquair,
To lonely wilds I'll wander.

An O D E.

To the Tune of, Polwarth on the Green,

ΤΗ

HO' beauty, like the rose,

That fmiles 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,
The joyful moments fly,
As if for wings they stole the ray
She darteth from her eye.

Kind am'rous Cupids, while

With tuneful voice the fings, Perfume her breath and fmile, And wave their balmy wings: B 2

C.

But

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