W

ITH my holiday gown, and my new fashion'd hat,
Laft Monday I went to the fair;

I held up my head, and I'll tell you for what,
Young Roger I thought would be there.
He wooes me to marry, whene'er we do meet,
Sure honey does dwell on his tongue;

And indeed he's fo handfome, fo mild and difcreet,
That I w-w— wou'd, that I w-w-

marry if I were not too young.

wou'd, that I'd

He whispers fuch foft pretty things in mine ear,
He vows, and he fighs, and implores ;

Such ribbons he bought me, fuch trinkets and ware,
Till, truft me, my pockets ran o'er :

A fong too he bought me, the best he could find,
With which I was mightily ftung;

And indeed, &c.

The fun being declin'd, it was time to retire,
My cottage lay distant a mile,

I rofe from my chair, Roger bow'd like a fquire,
And he handed me over the ftile:

His arms he threw round me, love play'd in his looks,
While we walked the meadows along;
And indeed, &c.

F

SONG

XXIV.

THE MIGHTY BOWL.

ILL me a bowl, a mighty bowl,
Large as my capacious foul;
Vaft as my thirst is, let it have
Depth enough to be my grave:
I mean the grave of all my care,
For I defign to bury't there.

TWEEDSIDE. By a Lady.

WHEN Maggy firft pearched wi' love,

I carry'd my noddle fu' hi';

Nae goudfpink in a' the gay glade,
Or mavis fo happy as 1.

I pip'd, and I danc'd, and I fang;
I woo'd, but I came hae good speed;
Therefore into England I'll gang,
And lay my banes over the Tweed.

To Maggy my love I did tell,

Sa't tears did my paffion express; Woe's me, for I loo'd her o'er well, And woman loves nae fic man lefs.

SONG XXVI.

A LAPLAND LOVE SONG.

Tlovites my fair to rural play,
HOU rifing fun! whofe gladfome ray
Difpel the mift, and clear the fkies,
And bring my Orra to my eyes.

Oh! were I fure my dear to view,
I'd climb the pine-tree's topmoft bough,
Aloft in air that quivering plays,
And round and round for ever gaze.

My Orra Moor, where art thou laid?
What woods conceal my fleeping maid?
Up by the roots, enrag'd, I'll tear
The trees that hide my promis'd fair.

O could I ride on clouds and skies,
Or on the raven's pinions rife!
Ye ftorks, ye fwans, a moment ftay,
And waft a lover on his way.

My blifs too long my bride denies,
Apace the wafting fummer flies;
Nor yet the wint❜ry blafts I fear,
Not forms or nights fhall keep me here.

What may for ftrength with fteel compare?
Oh! love has ftronger fetters far!

By bolts of steel are limbs confin'd,

But cruel love enchains the mind.

No longer then perplex the breast;
When thoughts perplex, the firft are best :
'Tis mad to go, 'tis death to ftay;
Away to Orra, hafte away.

B

USY humble bee am I,

That range the garden funny;

From flow'r to flow'r I changing fly,
And ev'ry flower's my honey,
Bright Chloe, with her golden hair,
A while my rich jonquile is,

Till, cloy'd with sipping nectar there,
I fhift to rofy Phillis.

But Phillis's fweet opening breast
Remains not long my station,

I fhift, &c.

For Kitty must be now addrefs'd,
My spicy breath'd carnation.
Yet Kitty's fragrant bed I leave,
To other flow'rs I'm rover;
And all in turns my love receives,
The gay wide garden over.

Variety that knows no bound
My roving fancy edges,

And oft with Flora I am found,
In dalliance under hedges:
For as I am an arrant bee

Who range each bank that's funny,
Both fields and gardens are my fee,
And ev'ry flower's my honey.

! The valiant Jockey
Leaves his lovely Peggy,

On loud calls, To arms, he must away ;

Fill your flowing glaffes,

Farewel, bonny laffes,

For no longer with you I can ftay. For no longer, &c.

Peggy.

O, Jockey, do not leave me !

O, how much you grieve me!

Stay at home in your own native land!

Let them go my honey,

That want friends and money,

Jockey, you have both at your command. Jockey, &c.

Fockey.

Peggy, leave off pleading,

That's a wrong proceeding;

I love you, but, alas! 'tis all in vain ;

I must prefer before you

Fame, honour and glory,

Which caufes me to crofs the raging main. Which, &c.

Peggy.

When Jockey's on the billows,
Peggy's on the willows,

Venting out her bitter grief and moan;
When Jockey lies a-fleeping,
Peggy lies a-weeping,

Always wishing for his fafe return.
Always wishing, &c.

W

HEN first I beheld thee, I vow and protest,
I felt a strong something strike into my breast;
It fmarted and tickled, fo pleafing the pain,
I wish'd for it gone, then wish'd for it again:

My heart pitta-patted, I cannot tell how,
Feel, Chloe! it flutter'd juft as it does now.

When I rofe with the lark to pipe forth a fond lay,
And chided the time till you brighten'd the day,
That moment gay nature fmil'd on my fweet maid,
I long'd to falute thee, but still was afraid :

My heart pitta-patted, I cannot tell how, (brow.
Methought when I prefs'd you, frown hung in your

When chofe queen of May, and the fwains all around, Stood with wonder to fee fo much beauty abound, Young Damon approach'd you with languishing look, And, low bowing, prefented his new-carven crook :

My heart pitta-patted, I cannot tell how,

At his languishing look and his courtly low bow.

'Twas one fummer's eve (oft it comes to my mind, When Colin grew bleft, as his Chloe grew kind), When fhepherds to fold drove their day weary'd train, And oxen from labour low'd over the plain :

My heart pitta-patted, I cannot tell how,
As we fat and fip'd fyllabub under the cow.