When the fun fhines out again,
All the face of nature fmiles.

Polly fo reviv'd and chear'd,
By her Colin's kind embrace,
Her declining head up-rear'd,
Sweetly fmiling in his face.

LXXXIV. The MUTUAL KIS S.

CELIA, by thefe fmiling graces,

Which my panting bofom warm;
By the heav'n of thy embraces,
By thy wondrous pow'r to charm;
By thefe foft bewitching glances
Which my inmoft bofom move;
By thefe lips whofe kifs intrances,
Thee, and thee alone I love.
By thy godlike art of loving,

Celia, with a blush, replies;
By thy heav'nly pow'r of moving
All my foul to fympathize;
By thefe eager foft careffes,

By thefe arms around me thrown,
By that look which truth expreffes,
My fond heart is all thy own.
Thus, with glowing inclination,
They indulge the tender blifs;
And to bind the lafting paffion,
Seal it with a mutual kifs.
Clofe in fond embraces lying,
They together feem to grow;
Such fupreme delight enjoying,
As true lovers only know.

A

LXXXV. The COBLER.

Cobler there was, and he liv'd in a stall,
Which ferv'd him for parlour, for kitchen and hall

No coin in his pocket, nor care in his pate;
No ambition had he, nor duns at his gate.
Derry, down, down, down, derry down.

Contented he work'd, and he thought himfelf happy, If at night he could purchase a cup of brown nappy ; How he'd laugh then, and whiftle, and fing too most fweet,

Saying, just to a hair I've made both ends to meet.
But love, the difturber of high and of low,
That fhoots at the peafant, as well as the beau;
He shot the poor cobler quite thorough the heart,}
I wish it had hit fome more ignoble part.

It was from a cellar this archer did play,
Where a buxom young damfel continually lay;
Her eyes fhone fo bright, when the rofe every day,
That the fhot the poor cobler quite over the way.

He fung her love fongs, as he fat at his work But he was as hard as a Jew or a Turk : Whenever he fpake, fhe would flounce and fleer, Which put the poor cobler quite into defpair.

He took up his awl that he had in the world, And to make away with himself was refolv'd: He pierc'd through his body, instead of the fole; So the cobler he dy'd, and the bell it did toll.

And now, in good will, I advife, as a friend, All coblers take warning by this cobler's end; Keep your hearts out of love; for we find by what's past, That love brings us all to an end at the last. Derry, down, down, down, derry down.

LXXXVI. Scornfu' NANCY.

NANCY's to the green-wood gane,
To hear the gowdfpinks chatt'ring;

And Willie he has follow'd her,
To gain her love by flatt'ring;
But a that he could fay or do,
She geck'd and fcorned at him.;

And ay when he began to woo,
She bade him mind wha gat him.
What ails thee, at my dad, quo' he,
My miny, or my aunty;

With crowdy-mowdy they fed me,`
Lang-kail, and ranty-tanty:
With bannocks of good barley meal,
Of thae there was right plenty,
With chapped ftocks, fou' butter'd weel:
And was not that right dainty?
Although my father was nae laird,
'Tis daffin to be vaunty,
He keepit ay a good kail-yard,
A ha' house and a pantry:
A good blue bonnet on his head,
An o'erlay 'bout his craigy;
And ay until the day he dy'd,
He rade on good thanks nagy..

Now wae and wonder on

n your fnout,
Wad ye hae bonny Nancy?

Wad ye compare ye're fell to me:
A docken to a tanfie!

I hae a wooer of my ain,

They ca' him fouple Sandy.
And weel I wat his bonny mou❜
Is fweet like fugar-candy.
Wow Nancy, what needs a' this din ?
Do I not ken this Sandy?
I'm fure the chief of a' his kin,,
Was Rab the beggar-randy!
His minny Meg upo' her back
Bare baith him and his billy;
Will ye compare a nafty pack,
To me your winfome Willie !
My gutcher left a good braid fword,,
Though it be auld and roufty,
Yet ye may tak it on my word,.
It is baith ftout and trusty:
And if I can but get it drawn,
Which will be right uneafy,,

fhall Jay baith my lugs in pawn
That he shall get a heezy.

Then Nancy turn'd her round about
And faid, Did Sandy hear ye,
Ye wadna mifs to get a clout;
Iken he difna fear ye;

Sae had your tongue, and fae nae mairy,
Set fomewhere else your fancy;
For as lang's Sandy's to the fore
Ye never fhall get Nancy.

LXXXVII. Corn rigs are bonnyu

Y Patie is a lover gay;

MY

His mind is never muddy;

His breath is fweeter than new hay;
His face is fair and ruddy.
His fhape is hand fome, middle fize;;
He's stately in his walking;
The fnining of his een surprize;

'Tis heav'n to hear him tawkings

Last night I met him on a bawk,
Where yellow corn was growing::
There mony a kindly work he spak,.
That fet my heart a-glowing;
He kifs'd and vow'd be wad be mine,.
And loo'd me beit of ony;
That gars me like to fing finfyne,
O corn rigs are bonny!

Let maidens of a filly mind

Refuse what maift they're wanting,. Since we for yielding are defign'd, We chaftely fhould be granting; Then I'll comply and marry Pate, And fyne my cockernony He's free to touzle air or late, Where corn-riggs are bonny.

LXXXVIII. Waly, Waly, gin. love be bonny,

Waly, waly, up the bank,

And waly, waly, down the brae; And waly, waly, by yon burn-fide,

Where my love and I were wont to gae.
I lean'd my back unto an aik,

I thought it was a trusty tree,
But first it bow'd, and fyne it brake,,
Sae my true love did lightly me..
O waly, waly, but love be bony,
A little while when it is new;
But when 'tis auld, it waxeth cauld;.
And fades away like morning dew..
wherefore should I bufk my head?
Or wherefore fhou'd I kaim my hair.??
For my true love has me forfook,

And says he'll never love me mair..
Now Arthur's feat fhall be my bed,
The sheets fhall ne'er be fyl'd by me;;
St Anton's well fhall be my drink,,
*Since my true love has forfaken me.
Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw,
And shake the green leaves aff the tree 2
gentle death when wilt thou come;
For of my life I am weary..

'Tis not the froft that freezes fell,.
Nor blawing fnaw's inclemency ;:
'Tis not fic cauld that makes me cry,
But my love's heart's grown cauld to me;
When we came in by Glasgow town,
We were a comely fight to fee;
My love was clad in the black velvet,
And I my fell in cramafie.

But had I wift before I kifs'd,

That love had been fae ill to win, I'd lock'd my heart in a cafe of gold, And pinn'd it with a filver pin.