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Vaft oceans of verdure appear;

To charm you at Jessamond mill.

To plant every rural delight,

Here nature has lavish'd her skill ; Here fragrant breezes unite,

And wanton round Jeffamond mill;

When silence each ev’ning here dwells,

The birds in coverts all still, No music in sweetness excels

The clacking of Jessamond mill.

Reclin'd by the verge of the stream,

Or stretch'd on the side of the hill, I'm never in want of a theme,

While leering at Jeffamond mill.

Sure Venus fome plot has defign'd,

Or why is my heart never still, Whenever it



To wander near Jeffamond mill.

My object, ye fwains, you will guess,
If ever in love


had fkill; And, faith, I will frankly confess,

'Tis Jenny at Jeffamond mill.

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EEP not, ye streams of filver Tay;

mourn, ye flow'ry banks sae bonny ! Tho' wars have call'd


love away, Heav'n will protect my faithful Johnny. 'Twas Fame that urg'd him to the field,

'Twas Fame inspir'd him thus to leave me ; Pleas'd, I survey'd the glitt'ring shield,

But ah! how much our parting grieves me!

Let dad and fretful mother fcold,

And for some richer laird design me; Yet neither pow'r, nor pomp, nor gold, From youthful Johnny shall incline me.

'Twas Fame, &c.- -As above.

What's wealth compar'd to him I love?

To him for ever fond to please me?
The live long day beneath the grove
To kiss, to clap, to bless and squeeze me!

'Twas Fame, &c.

Weep not, ye streams of silver Tay!

Nor mourn, ye flow'ry banks sae bonny ! Tho' arms



Heav'n will return unhurt, my Johnny.

'Twas Fame, &c.



A DUE T. Tune, Guardian Angels.

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UARDIAN angels ! hov'ring near me,

Save a lover fick with care !
Nor from faireft Myra tear me,

Oh! 'twill heighten my despair !
May I with her spend the day,
In raptures pass my years away;
And should I from these shades remove,
Deign to waft along my love.

Myra. Venus queen of love and beauty,

Parent of soft am'rous pain, Little Cupid ! do thy duty,

Bind me to my tender lwain. Reason I to love must yield, Love victorious wins the field : Hence, ye fons of wealth away! I'll my shepherd lad obey.

Damon. Come, ye Cupids! twine the myrtle,

Bring along the sweets of May, Wreathe a flow'r enamel'd kirtle,

For my Myra's wedding day.

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HE fun from the east tips the mountains with gold,
And the meadows all spangld with dew-drops be-

The lark's early matin proclaims the new day,
And the horn's chearful summons rebukes our delay.
With the sports of the field there's no pleasure can vie,
While jocund we follow, follow, follow, follow,
Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow, follow,
Follow, follow, follow the hounds in full

Let the drudge of the town make riches his sport,
And the slave of the state hunt the smiles of the court,
No care nor ambition our pleasures annoy,
But innocence still gives a zeft to our joy.

With the sports of the field, &c.
Mankind are all hunters in various degree ;
The priest hunts a living, the lawyer a fee;
The doctor a patient, the courtier a place;
Tho' often, like us, they're flung out with disgrace.

With the sports of the field, &c.



The cit hunts a plum, the soldier hunts fame; poet a dinner, the patriot a name ;


And the artful coquette, tho' she seems to refuse,
Yet in spite of her airs, she her lover pursues.

With the sports of the field, &c.

Let the bold and the busy hunt glory and wealth, All the blessings we ask is the blessing of health ; With hounds and with horns thro' the woodlands to

roam, And when tir'd abroad find contentment at home.

With the sports of the field, &c.

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Y and

a ,
As fickle as fancy, inconftant as wind;
My dog follows ev'ry strange heel in the streets,
And my mistress is fond of each fellow she meets,
Yet in spite of her arts I'll not make the least strife,
But be cheary, and merry, and happy through life.

Go Miss where she will, and whenever the please,
Her conduct shall ne'er my philosophy tease ;
Her freedom shall never embitter my glee,
One woman's the same as another to me;
So, in spite of her airs, I'll not make the least strife,
But be cheary, and merry, and happy thro' life.

I laugh at the wretches who stupidly pine,
For false-hearted gipsies, they title divine ;
At worst of my love fits no physic I ask,
But that which is found in the bowl or the Aask ;

go things how they will, I'll not make the least strife, But be cheary, and merry, and happy thro’ life.

The girl that behaves with good humour and sense, Shall still to my heart have the warmest pretence ; And for those that would jilt me, deceive, and betray, In honefter bumpers I'll waih them away. "Tis

my final resolve, not to make the least strife, But be cheary, and merry, and happy thro’ life.

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Fever, O Hymen, I add to thy tribe,

Not in party, or ftature, too high nor too low,
Not the least of a clown, nor too much of the beau;
No fribble, who's taste in my dress must be shewn,
Nor coxcomb, too slavishly fond of his own ;
No pedant in sense, nor conceited young smart,
For wisdom and conduct muft cor quer my heart.

Be manly his presence, engaging his air,
His temper ftill yielding, and mind as fincere ;
No dupe to his passions, 'gainst reason to move,
But kind to the sweetest, the passion of love.
Let honour, commendable pride of the sex,
His actions direct, and his principles fix;
Then groundless fufpicions he'll never surmise,
Nor with jealousy read ev'ry glance of my eyes.

When such a blest youth shall approve my small charms,
And no thoughts of interest his bosom alarms,
In wedlock I'll join with a mutual desire,
And prudence shall cherish the wavering fire.
Thus life will glide on unperceiv’d in decay,
Each night shall be blissful, and happy each day.
Such a partner, grant heaven! with my prayers comply ;
Or a maid let me live, and a maid let me die.






'VE been courting at a lass These twenty days and mair ;

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