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When absent from thee, I grew restless to all, And dreaded the dangers that might thee befal ; But trust me, my

fair one! when


did appear, Ah, little

think what


Colin felt here!
My heart pitta-patted, just as it does now;
And I'm happy since Chloe accepts


my vow.

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Passions cross’d the deep deform; Rude and raging tho' the motion,

Virtue fearless braves the storm.

Storms and tempests may blow over,

And subside to gentle gales ; So the poor despairing lover,

When least hoping, oft prevails.





Source of all sublime delight; When with mutual inclination,

Two-fond hearts in one unite.

What are titles, pomp, or riches,

If compar'd with true content ? That false joy which now bewitches, When obtain'd we may repent.

Lawless paffion brings vexation,

But a chaste and constant love,
Is a glorious emulation
Of the blissful state above.


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LE like

the wind is often changing,

Like the sea it ebbs and flows; Let the youth whofe heart is ranging,

Fear the nymph whom moft he knows.

But give me, Fate, one faithful pilot,

To direct and guide my soul : Changing lovers then I'll smile at,

She's my'magnet, she's my pole.




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HOME hear me, my boy, hast a mind to live long,

Take a dose of brisk claret, and part of a fong ; A gen’rous heat good wine does impart, And time to good music is beat by the heart : Let each be content with his own proper store, And keep ourselves honeft, though the world keeps us


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ELL me, lovely shepherd, where

Thou 'feed'st at noon thy fleecy care ;
Direct me to the sweet retreat

That guards thee from the mid-day heat ;
Left by thy flocks I lonely stray,
Without a guide, and lose my way:
Where rest at noon thy bleating care,
Gentle shepherd, tell me where.

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OHN Anderson my jo, cum in as ze gae by,

And ze fall get a sheep's heid weel baken in a pie,
Weel baken in a pie, and the haggis in a pat:
John Anderson my jo, cum in, and ze's get that.

And how do ze, cummer? and how do ze thrive ?
And how

bairns hae ze?

-Wom.-Cummer, I hae

five ;

Man.--Are they to zour ain guidman ?-Wom.-No,

Cummer, no; For four o’ them were gotten quhan Willie was awa'.

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Sung in the Chaplet by Mr Vernon and Mrs Scott.

HONTENTED all day I will fit by your side,

Where poplars far ftretching o'er-arch the cool tide;
And while the clear river runs purling along,
The thrush and the linnet contend in their song,


Whilft you are but by me no danger I fear;
Ye lambs reft in safety, my Damon is near ;
on, ye

blithe kids, now your gambols may please, For my shepherd is kind, and my heart is at ease.

For my shepherd, &c.


Ye virgins of Britain, bright rivals of day,
The wish of each heart, and

the theme of each lay;
Ne'er yield to the fwain till he make you a wife,
For he who loves truly will take you for life.

For he who, &c.

C 2

Laura. Ye youths, who fear nought but the frowns of the fair, 'Tis yours

to relieve, not to add to their care ; Then scorn to their ruin assistance to lend, Nor betray the sweet creatures you're born to defend.

Nor betray, &c.


For their honour and faith be our virgins renown'd,
Nor false to his vows one young shepherd be found :
Be their moments all guided by virtue and truth,
To preserve in their age what they gain’d in their

To preserve, &c.


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WAS at Midsummer's tide, no matter the day,

The lambkins were merry, and the birds grac'd

the spray, I rambled with Patty unto the green grove, Attended by no one but music and love.

The murmuring brooks in sweet harmony flow'd, And the soft breathing zephyrs so wantonly blow'd; We rambled, we tattld, all in the green grove, Attended by no one but music and love.

Flow on, soft meanders, in mirth ever flow,
To wash away sorrow and heart aching woe;
Let no troubles moleft us while in the green grove,
Attended by no one but music and love.

May Fortune, e'er smiling, bless Patty and I,
Our bosoms be strangers to care, fear, or figh ;
O then in sweet raptures we'll trace the green grove !
Attended by no one but music and love.

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HE lily and the blushing rose

To many give delight ;
But not a flow'r on earth that grows
Is half fo bright a fight,

As lovely women,
Charming women,
Pleasing, teafing,

Pray what makes cowards brave and bold?

Or what gives poets birth?
Or what makes people fond of gold?

Or pleasure dwell on earth? But lovely women, &c. Or what's the pageantry of kings?

Or pleasures of the bowl?
But vain, presumptuous, gaudy things,

Destroyers of the foul, Unless sweet women, &c. When men are fore oppress'd with grief,

and roam in search of peace, There's nought can give fuch fure relief, And make their torments cease,

pow'r has women, Virtuous


women, &c.

Then, fince the fair give such delight,

Aloud resound their praise ;
For who can view the glorious fight

And not their voices raise? To lovely women, &c.

The rich, the poor, the bold, the brave,

The lord, the clown, and king,
The peasant, courtier, priest, and knave,
In diff'rent strains will fing

To praise fweet women, &c.

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