SONG CLXVII. The blind Boy.

Say, what is that Thing call'd Light,

Which I muft ne'er enjoy?

What are the Bleffings of the Sight?
Tell your poor blind Boy.

You talk of wond'rous Things you fee:
You fay the Sun fhines bright.
I feel him warm; but how can he
Then make it Day or Night?
My Day or Night my felf I make,
Whene'er I wake, or play;
And could I ever keep awake,
With me 'twere always Day.
With heavy Sighs I often hear
You mourn my hopeless Woe;
But fure with Patience I may bear
A Lofs I ne'er can know.
Then let not what I cannot have
My Chear of Mind destroy;
Whilft thus I fing, I am a King,
Altho' a poor blind Boy!

SONG CXLVIII, Know, &c.

K

That ftands upon the Battlements of State. Stand there who will for me,

I'd rather be Secure than Great.

In being fo high, the Pleafures are but fmall,
But long's the Ruin, if I chance to fall.
Let me in fome fweet Shade fecured lye,
Happy in Leisure and Obscurity.

Whilft others place their Joys

In Popularity and Noife,

Let my foft Minutes glide obfcurely on,

Like fubterranean Streams, unheard, unknown.

Then when my Days are all in Silence paft, good plain Countryman I die at lafte

Death cannot chufe but be

To him a mighty Mifery,

Who to the World was popularly known,
And dies a Stranger to himself alone.

O

SONG

CXLIX.

Sandy, why leaves thou thy Nelly to

mourn ?

Thy Prefence cou'd ease me,

When neathing can please me:

Now dowie I figh on the Bank of the Burn,
Or throw the Wood, Laddie, until thou return.
Tho' Woods now are bonny, and Mornings are
clear,

While Lav'rocks are finging,

And Primrofes fpringing;

Yet nane of them pleases my Eye or my Ear,
When throw the Wood, Laddie, ye dinna appear.
That I am forfaken, fome spare no to tell;
I'm fafh'd wi' their Scorning,

Baith Ev'ning and Morning;

Their Jeering gaes aft to my Heart wi' a knell, When throw the Wood, Laddie, I wander my

fell.

Then ftay, my dear Sandy, nae langer away, But, quick as an Arrow,

Hafte here to thy Marrow,

Wha's living in Languor, till that happy Day, When throw the Wood, Laddie, we'll dance, fing and play.

SH

Hould 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 make me once again as bleft,
As I was lang fyne.

H 2

Methinks around us, on each Bough,
A thoufand Cupids play;

Whilft thro' the Groves I walk with you,
Each Object makes me gay:

Since your Return, the Sun and Moon
With brighter Beams do shine,

Streams murmur foft Notes while they run,
As they did lang fyne.

Defpife the Court and Din of State;

Let that to their Share fall,
Who can efteem fuch Slav'ry great,
While bounded like a Ball:
But funk in Love, upon my Arms
Let your brave Head incline,

We'll please ourselves with mutual Charms,
As we did lang fyne.

O'er Moor and Dale, with your gay Friend,
You may pursue the Chace,
And, after a blyth Bottle, end

All Cares in my Embrace :
And in a vacant rainy Day

You fhall be wholly mine;

We'll make the. Hours run fmooth away,
And laugh at lang fyne.

The Hero, pleas'd with the fweet Air,

And Songs of generous Love, Which had been utter'd by the Fair,

Bow'd to the Pow'rs above :

Next Day, with Confent and glad Hafte,
Th' approach'd the facred Shrine ;
Where the good Prieft the Couple bleft,
And put them out of Pine.

SONG CLI. Wherever I am, &c.

W

Herever I am, and whatever I do, My Phillis is ftill in my Mind; When angry I mean not to Phillis to go, My Feet of themfelves the Way find.

Unknown to myself I am juft at her Door,
And when I wou'd rail, I can bring out no more
Than Phillis the fair and unkind.

When Phillis fee, my Heart bounds in my
Breast,

And the Love I wou'd ftifle is shown;
But asleep, or awake, I am never at reft,
When from my Eyes Phillis is gone.
Sometimes a fad Dream deludes my fad Mind
But alas! when I wake, and no Phillis I find,
How I figh to myself all alone!

Shou'd a King be my Rival in her I adore,
He thou'd offer his Treasure in vain
O let me alone to be happy and poor!
And give me my Phillis again.

Let Philli's be mine, and for ever be kind,
I cou'd to a Defart with her be confin'd,
And envy no Monarch his Reign,
Alas I difcover too much of my Love,

And she too well knows her own Pow'r
She makes me each Day a Martyrdom prove,
And makes me grow jealous each Hour :
But let me each Minute torment my poor Mind,
I had rather love Phillis both falfe and unkind,
Than ever be freed from her Pow'r.

SONG CLII. Alexis, bow, &c.

A How and syver

How bashful and filly you grow!

In my Eyes can you never discover,
I mean Yes, when I often fay No.
When you pine, and you whine out your Paffion,
And only entreat for a Kifs;
To be coy and deny, is the Fashion,
Alexis fhou'd ravish the Bliss.

In Love, as in War, 'tis but Reafon

To make fome Defence for the Town To furrender without it, were Treason, Before that the Out-works were wong

If I frown, 'tis :

my Blushes to cover,

'Tis for Honour and Modesty Sake; He is but a pitiful Lover,

Who is foil'd by a fingle Attack. But when we by Force are o'erpower'd, The best and the braveft muft yield; I am not to be won by a Coward, Who hardly dares enter the Field. SONG CLIII. Whilft Strephon, &r Hilf Strephon on fair Chloe hung,

W

And gently woo'd, and fweetly fung;

The Nymph, in a disdainful Air,

Thús fmiling, mock'd the Shepherd's Care.
Swain, I know, that you difcover
In my Form a thousand Charms;
Can you point me out a Lover,
Worthy my encircling Arms ?
Boy, no more approach my Beauty,
Till you equal Merit boast ;
To adore me is a Duty,

Thousands witnefs to their Coft.

Stung to the Heart, the red'ning Swain
On the vain Maid retorts again.

Foolish Creature,

Did each Feature

Bloom beyond the Pride of Nature
Artful feigning,

Coy difdaining,

Vain Coquet, destroys them all

Go over-bearing,

Proud, enfnaring;

Lay a thousand Fops defpairing a

Then complying,
Sighing, dying,

To fome Fool a Victim fall.

Nymphs, like you, whilft they're deceiving)
Angels all in Front appear

But the Sot their Arts believing,
Finds the Devil in the Rear,