She heard; and new joy shot thro' her saft frame,
And will you, my Luve! be true? she replied:
And live I to meet my fond shepherd the same?
Or dream I that SANDY will make me his bride?
O NELLY! I live to find thee still kind;

Still true to thy fwain, and luvely as true:
Then adieu to a' forrow; what foul is fo blind,
As not to live happy for ever with you?

Same Tune.

H! how cou'd I venture to luve ane like thee,
And you not despise a poor conquest like me?

On lords, thy admirers, cou'd look wi' disdain,
And knew I was naething, yet pity'd my pain?
You faid, while they teaz'd you with nonfenfe and dress,
When real the passion, the vanity's lefs;

You saw thro' that filence which others despise,

And, while beaux were a-tauking, read luve in my eyes.

O! how fhall I fauld thee, and kifs a' thy charms,
Till fainting wi' pleasure, I die in your arms;
Thro' a' the wild tranfports of ecstasy toft,

Till finking together, together we're loft !

Oh! where is the maid that, like thee, ne'er can cloy,
Whose wit does enliven each dull pause of joy ;

And when the short raptures are all at an end,
From beautiful mistress turns fenfible friend?

In vain do I praise thee, or strive to reveal,
Too nice for expreffion, which only we feel.
In a' that you do, in each look and each mein,
The graces in waiting adorn you unseen.

When I see you, I luve you; when hearing, adore;
I wonder, and think you a woman no more;
Till mad wi' admiring, I cannot contain,
And kiffing your lips, you turn woman again.

With thee in my bofom, how can I despair?
I'll gaze on thy beauties, and look awa care :
I'll ask thy advice when with troubles oppreft,
Which never displeases, but always is best.
In all that I write I'll thy judgement enquire;
Thy wit shall correct what thy love did inspire :
I'll kiss thee, and prefs thee, till youth is all o'er,
And then live in friendship, when paffion's no more.

Auld Lang Syne.

HOU'D auld acquaintance be forgot,
Tho' they return with scars?

These are the noble hero's lot,
Obtain'd in glorious wars :
Welcome, my VARO, to my breast,
Thy arms about me twine,
And mak me ance again as bleft,
As I was lang fyne.

Methinks around us on each bough

A thousand Cupids play,

Whilst through the groves I wauk with you,

Each object maks me gay:

Since your return, the fun and moon

With brighter beams do fhine,

Streams murmer foft notes while they run,
As they did lang fyne.

Despise the court and din o' state;
Let that to their share fa',
Who can esteem fuch flav'ry great,
While bounded like a ba':
But funk in luve, upo' my arms

Let your brave head recline;
We'll please oursels wi' mutual charms,
As we did lang fyne.

O'er moor and dale wi'

your gay friend

You may pursue the chace, And, after a blyth bottle, end

A' cares in my embrace:
And in a vacant rainy day,

You shall be wholly mine;
We'll mak the hours run smooth away,
And laugh at lang fyne.

The hero, pleas'd wi' the sweet air,
The figns of gen'rous love,
Which had been utter'd by the fair,
Bow'd to the pow'rs above;
Next day, wi' glad consent and haste,
Th' approach'd the facred shrine;
Where the good priest the couple bleft,
And put them out o' pine.

WHE

Same Tune.

HEN floury meadows deck the year,
And sporting lambkins play

When spangled fields renew'd appear,
And music wak'd the day;

Then did my CHLOE leave her bow'r,
To hear my am'rous lay,

Warm'd by my love, she vow'd no power
Shou'd lead her heart aftray.

The warbling quires from ev'ry bough
Surround our couch in thrangs,

And a' their tunefu' art bestow,
To gi' us change o' fangs :
Scenes o' delight my foul poffefs'd,
I blefs'd, then hugg'd my maid;
I robb'd the kiffes frae her breast,
Sweet as a noon-day's shade.

But joy transporting never fails
To flee awa' as air;

Another swain wi' her prevails

To be as fause as fair.

What can my fatal paffion cure?

I'll never woo again;

A' her difdain I maun endure,
Adoring her in vain.

What pity 'tis to hear the boy

Thus fighing wi' his pain!

But time and scorn may gi'e him joy,
To hear her figh again.

Ah! fickle CHLOE, be advis'd,

Do not thyfel' beguile;

A faithfu' lover should be priz'd,
Then cure him wi' a smile.

WHAT

Allan Water.

HAT numbers fhall the muse repeat?
What verse be found to praise my

On her ten thousand graces wait,

ANNIE?

Each fwain admires, and owns fhe's bonny. Since first she trod the happy plain,

She fet each youthfu' heart on fire; Each nymph does to her fwain complain, That ANNIE kindles new defire.

This lovely darling, dearest care,

This new delight, this charming ANNIE,
Like fummer's dawn, she's fresh and fair,
When FLORA's fragrant breezes fan ye.
A' day the am'rous youths conveen,
Joyous they sport and play before her;
A' night, when she nae mair is seen,
In blissful dreams they still adore her.

Amang the crowd AMYNTOR came,

He look'd, he luv'd, he bow'd to ANNIE;

His rifing fighs exprefs his flame,

His words were few, his wishes many.

Wi' fmiles the luvely maid reply'd,

Kind Shepherd, Why fhou'd I deceive ye?

Alas! your love maun be deny'd,

This deftin'd breast can ne'er relieve ye.

Young DAMON came, with CUPID's art,

His wiles, his smiles, his charms beguiling.

He staw awa' my virgin heart;

Cease, poor AMINTOR, cease bewailing.