I regarded his Vows but as Wind,
And fcornfully fmil'd at his Pain.
How happy my Fortune had been,

Could my Reafon have conquer'd my
In Blifs I had rivall'd a Queen 5

Had I been my dear Angelot's Bride: With him more Content I had found,

Pride!

Than Grandeur and Fame can fupply;
For his Fondness my Wishes had crown'd,
With a Paffion that never would die.
I had feafted with innocent Joy

On the Pleasures of Kindnefs and Eafe;
While the Fears which the Great-ones annoy
Had ne'er interrupted my Peace.
But ah! that glad Profpect is gone!

His Love I can never regain

And the Lofs I fhall ever bemoan,

'Till Death fhall relieve me from Pain. Thus wail'd the fad Nymph all in Tears, When the Swain to the Green did advance In his Hand his new Confort appears,

With a Train gaily join'd in a Dance, Impatient, and fick at the Sight,

To the neighbouring Grove fhe retir'd, (Once the Scene of her daily Delight) And fainting, in Silence expir'd.

SONG CCCCX. Come, Laffie, &t.

1

Ome, Laffie, lend me your braw Hemp
Heckle,

And I'll lend you my Thripling Kame; For Fainnefs, Deary, I'll gar ye heckle, If you'll go dance the Bob of Dunblane. Hafte ye, gang to the Grond of ye'r Trunkies, Bufk ye braw, and dinna think Shame; Confider in Time, if leading of Monkies Be better than dancing the Bob of Dunblane. Be frank, my Laffie, left I grow fickle, And tak my Word and Offer again,

Syne ye may chance to repent it mickle
Ye didna accept of the Bob of Dunblane.
The Dinner, the Piper, the Priest shall be ready,
And I'm grown dowie with lying alane;
Away then, leave both Minny and Dady, of
And try with me the Bob of Dunblane.

SONG CCCCXL. Betty early, &c.

B

010100

ETTY early gone a Maying,

Met her Sweetheart Willie ftraying ; Defign or Chance, no Matter whether But this we know, he reafon'd with her. Mark, dear Maid, the Turtles: Cooing, Fondly Billing, kindly Wooing; r See how ev'ry Bush discovers tadz sas Happy Pairs of feather'd Loversk Or in Singing, or in Loving, Ev'ry Moment fill improving Love and Nature wifely leads 'em? Ye Love and Nature ne'er mifguides 'em.? See how the op❜ning bluthing Rofe, usi brå, Does all her fecret Charms difclofe

Sweet's the Time, ah! fhort's the Mealure

Of our fleeting, hafty Pleasure.

H

Quickly we muft fnatch the Bliffes i
Of their foft and fragrant Kiffes ;*
To-day they bloom, they fade To-morrow,
Droop their Heads, and die in Sorrow.

ར་

A

Time, my Befs, will leave no Traces Of thofe Beauties, of thofe Graces; id Youth and Love forbid our flaying: IN TO Love and Youth abhor delaying. Acb vaNT Deareft Maid! nay, do not fly me,qqsh Let your Pride no more deny me; od: MA Never doubt your faithful Willie, There's my Thumb, I'll ne'er beguile thée.

SONG CCCCXII. How happy's, &C. Tow happy's the Man, that like you, Şir, His pretty dear Perfon admires!

H

Who, when with the Fair it won't do, Sir,
Content to his Idol retires.

He turns to his Glass,
Where, in his sweet Face

Such ravishing Beauties disclose
His Heart on fire,

Is fure his Defire

No Rival will ever oppose.

But when to a Nymph a Pretender,
Poor Mortal, he fplits on a Shelf!
How little a Thing will defend her,
From one that makes Love to himself?
While nice in Prefs,

And fure of Succefs,

He thinks the can never get free
With fmiling Eyes,

She rallies, and flies,

And laughs at his Merit, like me,

SONG CCCCXIII. Happy Infe&I Happy Infect! what can be

In Happiness compar'd to thee?

Fed with Nourishment Divine,
The dewy Morning's gentle Wine!
Nature waits upon thee ftill,

And thy verdant Cup does fill
"Tis fill'd wherever thou doft cread:

For Nature's Self's thy Ganymede!

Thou doft drink, and dance, and fing ;

Happier than the happiest King!

All the Fields which thou doft fee;
All the Plants belong to thee.

All the Summer Hours Produce,
Fertile made with early Juice,

Man for thee does fow and ploughs of fastn
Farmer he, and Landlord thouil's to regani A
Thou innocently doft enjoy 3000
Nor does thy Luxury deftroy;

With Joy the Shepherd heareth thee, W
Far more harmonious fing than help a

Thee Country Hinds with Gladness heat,
The Prophet of the ripen'd Year!

Thee Phoebus loves and does infpire? W
Bright Phoebus is himself thy Sire !: deld w
To thee, of all Things upon Earth,
Life is no longer than thy Mirth,
Happy Infect! thrice happy thou is
Doft neither Age nor Winter know

W

But when thou'ft drunk, and danc d, and fung Thy Fill, thy flow'ry Leaves among, Sated with thy Summer Feaft,

Thou retir'&t to endless Reft,

9100 dover 19 W

SONG CCCCXIV. To bug, &c. Thug yourself in perfect Eafe, 155

What would you with for more than thefe } A healthy, clean, paternal Scat, not cray Well fhaded from the Summer's Heat, 9.17 el

A little Parlour Stove, to hold grand and f A conftant Fire from Winter's Cold Commu Where you may fit, and think, and fing, ma chc Far off from Court, God bless the King! A

Safe from the Harpies of the Law, is From Party-Rage, and Great Man's Paw ;iw? Have choice few Friends of your own Cake' 53 A Wife agreeable and chaftem gas said

An open, but yet cautious Mind,co 2009 Where guilty Cares no Entrance find bes Nor Mifer's Fears, nor Envy's Spight, enw 194 To break the Sabbath of the Night vndefodT

Plain Equipage, and temp'rate Meals, Romer Few Taylors, and no Doctor's Bills

Content to take, as Heav'n fhall pleafe, voi s A longer or a shorter Leafed bás si pust SONG CCCCXV. Awful Hero, &c.

Wful Hero, Marlbro', rife!

A Sleepy Charms I come to break:

languid Eyes:

Hither turn Genius calls, awake!

Lo!

Well furvey this faithful Plan,

"

Which records thy Life's great Story;
Tis a fhort, but crowded Span,
Full of Triumphs, full of Glory.
One by one thy Deeds review:
Sieges, Battles, thick appear;
Former Wonders loft in new,

Greatly fill each pompous Year.
This is Blenheim's crimfon Field,

Wet with Gore, with Slaughter ftain'd?
Here retiring Squadrons yield,

And a bloodless Wreath is gain'd."
Ponder in thy God-like Mind trow stuf
All the Wonders thou haft wrought;
Tyrants, from their Pride declin'd,
Be the Subject of thy Thought!
Reft thee here, while Life may laft:
Th'utmoft Bliss to Man allow'd,

Is to trace his Actions paft,

And to find 'em Great and Good.
Mortal born!

But 'tis gone

Swift the fading Scenes remove
Let 'em pafs with noble Scorn:
Thine are Worlds which roll above,
Poets, Prophets, Heroes, Kings,
Pleas'd, thy ripe Approach forefee;
Men who acted wondrous Things,
Tho' they yield in Fame to thee.
Foremost in the Patriot Band,
Shining with diftinguish'd Day,