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ADVICE TO THE LADIES.
E nymphs, and ye shepherds, that join in the throng,
The story, tho' fimple, is true that I tell,
I went t'other day to a walk on the green, And met with a lass fair as beauty's gay queen ; I ask'd for a kiss, but the damsel said No, And struggld and frown'd, and cry'd Pray let me go.
I tenderly cried, Phillis don't be a prude; But still she return’d, I'll cry out if you're rude : The more that I press'd her, the more she cried No, And struggl'd and frown'd, and cry'd Pray let me go.
I found no intreaties would make her comply, Whenever I touch'd her 'twas, Fye, Colin, fye ; So I sent for a parson, and made her my
wife, And now I am welcome to kiss her for life.
Ye virgins that hear, learn example from this,
HO has e'er been at Baldock must needs know the
mill, At the sign of the horse, at the foot of the hill, Where the grave and the gay, the clown and the beau, Without all diftinction promiscuously go.
Where the grave, &c.
This man of the mill has a daughter so fair,
That once, &c.
But, looking again, I perceiv'd my mistake,
While nothing, &c.
Prometheus stole fire, as the poets all say,
eyes Had fav'd him the trouble of robbing the skies.
Had Polly, &c.
Since first I beheld the dear lass of the mill,
I shall die, &c.
Hold, hold, says my neighbour, here ftop thy career, Prithee finish thy song, and let's drink to the fair : Pray where stands the bottle ? full brimmers we'll fill, Let's all drink the health of the lass of the mill.
Pray where, &c.
N Tay's fair banks you've often said,
You wish'd that I wou'd try to love ye,
lot was far above ye. I heed not dad, nor mother's fcorn ;
Love gives to me my lad sae bonny, We for each other sure are born,
Then take me to your arms my Johnny !
My birth they say was high, and so,
For greater bliss they did design me,
But since I speak my honeft mind,
And swear that you're the fwain to pleafe me, Will
you be tender, fond, and kind, And never wish to leave or teaze me?
I heed not dad, &c.
I know your heart is good and true
laird's, so let's not tarry,
I heed not dad, &c.
S O N G
THE WAIL OF SUSA N.
'ER all the wide ocean the billows were rolling,
'Mid torrents of hail the dread thunder did roar; And loud from the mountains the tempest was howling, When Sue sat to welcome her lover on shore. “ On me, ye rude winds ! (said she) vent all your fury,
Why o'er the deep ocean so boift'rously roar ye? “Oh! spare in your ire my dear Jack, I implore ye ! “ And send him safe back to the arms of his Sue!”
Now full in her view, o’er the foaming waves driven, Dismasted and shatter'd, the vessel appears; Despairing and wild, she address’d her to Heaven, And tore her soft tresses, 'mid torrents of tears. “ Avaunt, ye rude billows! cease farther to move here! “ Ye hurricanes dreadful! your blust'ring give over, “ Nor cruelly twin a fond maid of her lover! “ Ah! what, if Jack's drown'd, will become of his
Alas, hapless nymph! how prophetic thy doubts are ! How fruitless thy stay! well-a-day! and how vain ! In view o'er the waves, see! your Jack lifeless floats
there, A victim, ah me! to the rage of the main ! Now frantic, now speechless, the stedfastly views him, “ Yer bear him, kind billows ! (she cries) to my bo.
66 fom! " Within
my fond arms I'U for ever inclose him,
To burst with deep fighs her fair bofom was ready,
The plung’d in the main to embrace him,
THE SPINNING WHEEL. Set by Dr Arne.
O ease his heart, and own his flame,
Blithe Jockey to young Jenny came,
Her milk-white hand he did extol,
Then round about her slender waist He clasp'd his arms, and her embrac’d; To kiss her hand he down did kneel, But
yet she turn’d her spinning wheel.
With gentle voice she bid him rise,
Till, bolder grown, so close he prefs'd, His wanton thoughts she quickly guess’d; Then push'd him from the rock and reel, And angry turn’d her spinning wheel.
At last when she began to chide, He fwore he meant her for his bride; 'Twas then her love she did reveal, And Aung away her fpinning wheel.
MINGLING OF SOUL S.
WOU Pu you know how we meet o’er our jolly
full bowls As we mingle our liquors, we mingle our souls ; The sweet melts the Tharp, the kind soothes the strong, And nothing but friendship grows all the night long : We drink, laugh, and celebrate every desire, Love only remains our unquenchable fire.
S O N G
JESS Ą. M O N D MIL L.
O sing of the nymph and her cot,
Each bard will oft flourith his quill, I'm glad it has fallen to my lot
To celebrate Jessamond mill.
When Spring hither winds her career,
Our trees and our hedges to fill ;