And grey-hair'd wealth fhall plead in vain,
For thou haft most to give me.
My fancy paints thee full of charms,
Thou looks fo young and tender,
Love beats his new and fond alarms,
To thee I now furrender.

THE WAY TO KEEP HIM.

YE fair, who fhine thro' Britain's ifle,

And triumph o'er the heart,

For once, attentive be a while

To what I fhall impart.

Would you obtain the youth you love,
The precepts of a friend approve,
And learn the way to keep him.

As soon as Nature has decreed
The bloom of eighteen years,
And Ifabel from fchool is freed,
Then beauty's force appears;
The youthful blood begins to flow,
She hopes for man, and longs to know
The fureft way to keep him.

When firft the pleasing pain is felt
Within the lover's breast,

And

you, by ftrange persuasion melt, Each wishing to be bleft,

Be not too bold, nor yet too coy,
With prudence lure the happy boy,
And that's the way to keep him.

At court, at ball, at park, or play,
Affume a modeft pride;

And, left your tongue your mind betray,
In fewer words confide:

0000

The maid, who thinks to gain a mate
By giddy chat, will find too late,
That's not the way to keep him.

In dreffing never the hours kill,
That bane to all the fex;
Nor let the arts of dear Spadille
Your innocence perplex.
Be always decent as a bride,

By virtuous rules your reafon guide,
For that's the way to keep him.

And when the nuptial knot is fast,
And both its bleffings share,
To make these joys for ever last,
Of jealoufy beware.

His love with kind compliance meet,
Let conftancy the work complete,
And you'll be fure to keep him.

A

SONG

LXXXIV.

THE MAID OF THE MILL.

TTEND all ye fhepherds and nymphs to my lay,
And learn from my tale to go wiser away.

A damfel once dwelt at the foot of a hill,

Well known by the name of The Maid of the Mill.

The lord of the village beheld the sweet maid;
Each art to fubdue her was prefently laid;
With gold he endeavour'd to tempt her to ill,
But nought could prevail with the maid of the mill.

Young Johnny addrefs'd her with hope, and with

fear;

His heart was right honeft, his love was fincere:
With rapture, each moment, his bofom would thrill,
When'er he beheld the dear maid of the mill.

His paffion was founded in honour and truth; The nymph read his heart, and, of course, lov'd the youth. At church little Jenny foon answer'd-I will. His Lordship was baulk'd of the maid of the mill.

What happiness waits on the chafte nuptial pair!
Content, they are strangers to forrow and care:
The flame they first rais'd in each other burns ftill,
And Johnny is bleft with the maid of the mill.

SONG

LXXXV.

BRAES OF BALLENDEN.

A favourite Scots Song. Sung by Mrs Hudson.

BENEATH a green fhade, a lovely young fwain
One ev'ning reclin'd to discover his pain;
So fad, yet fo fweetly, he warbl'd his woe,

The wind ceas'd to breathe, and the fountains to flow;
Rude winds, with compaffion, could hear him complain,
Yet Chloe, lefs gentle, was deaf to his strain.

How happy, he cried, my moments once flew, E'er Chloe's bright charms first flash'd in

my view;
Thofe eyes then, with pleasure, the dawn could furvey,
Nor fmil'd the fair morning more chearful than they :
Now fcenes of diftrefs pleafe only my fight,
I'm tortur'd in pleasure, and languish in light.

Thro' changes, in vain, relief I pursue,
All, all but confpire my griefs to renew ;
From funfhine to zephyrs and fhades we repair,
To funfhine we fly from too piercing an air:
But love's ardent fever burns always the fame,
No winter can cool it, no fummer inflame.

But fee the pale moon, all clouded, retires, The breezes grow cool, not Strephon's defires :

G

I fly from the dangers of tempeft and wind,
Yet nourish the madness that preys on my mind.
Ah, wretch! how can life be worthy thy care!
To lengthen its moments but lengthens defpair.

香香

SONG

THE

LXXXVI.

GIPSE Y.

AS

S thro' the green meadow I chanced to pass,
A gipfey fat under a shade,

Who told me the faw by the lines of my face,
That my doom was to die an old maid.

Her prophecy fill'd me with grief and dismay,
And pierc'd my poor heart to the quick,
Because I'd oft heard my grandmother fay,
That gipfies do deal with Old Nick.

For farther advice to the curate I went,
And told him my cafe in a fright;
Says he, pretty maid, be content for a while,
And I'll alter the cafe before night.

O then he began with fuch force and fuch fire,
And with arguments fo very strong,
That, believe me, ye maids, the devil is a liar;
And fo, there's an end of my fong.

SONG

LXXXVII.

THE MILK - MA I D.

OMING home with my milk the young 'fquire I

COMI

met,

Says, Polly, love, fet down your pails,

I have long been a kiss or two, child, in your debt,
If I pay you, you must not tell tales.

To oblige him, and 'caufe that I would not be cross,
I prefently quitted my pails;

He pull❜d me
me down gently on a bed of
And kifs'd me I fhould not tell tales.

green

I ftrove to get up, but he ftill kept me down;
I begg'd to go home with my pails:

mofs

He vow'd, to fuch pitch his fond paffion was grown,
He'd wed—but I must not tell tales.

So gently he woo'd, and fo warmly he preft,
That I little
more thought of my pails,
Till beyond all efcaping, I found him poffeft
Of my heart-but I muft not tell tales.

He folemnly fwore that he'd make me his wife,
And eafe me of carrying pails;

If he don't, why, as fure as a muscle has life,
If I'm filent, there is one will tell tales.

SONG

LXXXVIII.

FRIENDSHIP AND WINE. By Mr. Gilfon.

L

ET the grave and the gay enjoy life how they may,
My pleafures their pleafures furpafs;

Go the world well or ill, 'tis the fame with me itill,
If I have but my friend and my glass.

The lover may figh, the courtier may lie,
And Croefus his treasure amafs;

All the joys

So I'll ftand by my friend and my glass.

are but vain that are blended with pain;

New life wine infpires, and creates new defires,
And oft wins the lover his lafs,

Or his

courage prepares to disdain the nymph's airs;
friend and my glass.

So I'll ftand by my