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OR ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove

An unrelenting foe to love ;
And when we meet a mutual heart,
Come in between, and bid us part;
Bid us figh on from day to day,
And wish, and wish the soul away,
Till youth and genial years are flown,
And all the life of life is gone !

But busy, busy ftill art thou
To bind the loveless, joylefs vow,
The heart from pleasure to delude,
And join the gentle to the rude.
For once, O Fortune, hear my pray'r,
And I absolve thy future care :
All other wishes I resign,
Make but the dear Amanda mine.

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OR the lack of gold she's left me,

me, She me forsook for a great duke,

And to endless woes fhe's left me.

A star and garter have more art
Than youth, a true and faithful heart;
For empty titles we must part,

And for glittering show she's left me.

No cruel fair shall ever move
My injur'd heart again to love ;

Through distant climates I must rove,

Since Jeany she has left me.

Ye pow'rs above, I to your care
Give up my charming lovely fair ;
Your choicest blessings be her share,

Tho'she's for ever left me.

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Y Pinky-house oft let me walk,

While circled in my arms, I hear my Nelly sweetly talk,

And gaze o'er all her charms. O let me ever fond behold

void of art! Those chearful smiles that sweetly hold

In willing chains my heart.

Those graces

O come, my love! and bring anew,

That gentle turn of mind;
That gracefulness of air, in you,

By nature's hand design’d:
That beauty, like the blushing rose,

First lighted up this flame;
Which, like the fun, for ever glows

Within breaft the same!


your art !

Ye light coquets! ye airy things!

How vain is all
How feldom it a lover brings !

How rarely keeps a heart !

gather from my Nelly's charms,

That sweet, that graceful ease; That blushing modesty that warms ;

That native art to please.

Come then, my love ! O come along !

and feed me with thy charms ; Come, fair inspirer of my song,

O fill my longing arms !
A Aame like mine can never die,

While charms, fo bright as thine,
So heav'nly fair, both please the eye,

and fill the foul divine !

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HEN trees did bud, and fields were green,

And broom bloom'd fair to see;
When Mary was complete fifteen,

And love laugh’d in her eye ;
Blithe Davy's blinks her heart did move

To speak her mind thus free;
Gang down the burn, Davy love,
" And I will follow thee."

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Her cheeks were rosy, red and white,

Her een were bonny blue,
Her looks were like Aurora bright,
Her lips like dropping dew.

Blithe Davy's blinks, &c.

What pass’d, I guess, was harmless play,

And nothing, sure, unmeet !
For, ganging hame, I heard them say,
They lik'd a walk fo sweet ;

Blithe Davy's blinks, &c.

His cheek to hers he fondly laid ;

She cry'd, “ Sweet love be true; 66 And when a wife, as now a maid, " To death I'll follow you.”

Blithe Davy's blinks, &c.

As fate had dealt with him in routh,

Strait to the kirk he led her;
There plighted her his faith and truth,

And a bonny bride he made her.
No more asham'd to own her love,

Or speak her mind thus free; « Gang down the burn, Davy love,

“ And I will follow thee.”





INCE wedlock’s in vogue, and ftale virgins despis’d,

To all batchelors, greeting, these lines are premis'd ; I'm a maid that would marry-oh! could I but find, I care not for fortune-a man to my mind.

A man to my mind,

A man to my mind,
I care not for fortune-a man to my mind.

Not the fair feather'd fop, fond of fashion and dress? Nor the 'squire, that can relish no joys but the chace; Not the free thinking rake, whom no mortals can bind Neither this, that, nor t’other's the man to my mind.


Not the ruddy-fac'd lot, who tops world without end; Not the drone, that can't relish his bottle and friend ; Not the fool, that's too fond; nor the churl, that's un


Neither this, &c.

Not the rich with full bags, without breeding or merit; Not the flush, that's all fury, without any spirit ;

Not the fine Mr Fribble, the scorn of mankind;
Neither this, &c.

But the youth, whom good sense and good nature inspire, Whom the brave muft esteem, and the fair should admire: In whose heart love and truth are with honour con

joind, This, this, and no other's the man to my


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OW pleasure unbounded resounds o'er the plains,

And brightens the smiles of the damsels and swains, As they follow the last team of harvest along, And end all their toils with a dance and a song : Poffefs’d of the plenty that bleffes the year, Bleak winter's approach they behold without fear, And when tempests rattle and hurricanes roar, Enjoy what they have, and ne'er languish for more.

Dear Chloe, from them let us learn to be wise,
And use every moment of life as it flies ;
Gay youth is the spring-time which all must improve,
For summer to ripen an harvest of love ;
Our hearts then a provident care should engage,
To lay friendship in store for the winter of age,
Whose frowns shall disarm ev'n Chloe's bright eye,
Damp the flame in my bofom, and pall ev'ry joy.

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