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Infifted to hand me along the green mead,
I often fay, .Mother, the miller I'll huff, She laughs and cries, Go, girl, I plague him enough; But scarce a day passes, but by her defire, I steal a sly kiss from the youth I admire. If wedlock he wishes, his wish I'll fulfil, And I'll answer, O yes, with a hearty good will.
S Damon and Phillis were feeding their sheep,
Not long she'd been there when the swain op'd his
Have you e'er seen a shepherdess pasfing this way,
Two lambkins milk white unto you I will give,
Thus he spoke, but no tidings of Phillis could hear, Then back to his flocks he return’d in despair; The nymph, when she saw him, itep'd out and cry'd, Bo, And, laughing at his care, cried, Go, Damon, Go.
Both joy and surprise at once struck the poor fwain, With raptures he gaz'd on his Phillis again ; He chided a little, she blush'd at his care, And each gave a kiss and made up the affair.
IN 'N Spring, my dear Shepherds, your flowrets are gay,
They breathe all their sweets in the sunshine of May; But hang down their heads when December draws near, The Winter of life is like that of the year.
The larks and the linnets that chant o'er the plains, All, all are in love while the Summer remains ; Their sweet hearts in Autumn no longer are dear, “ The Winter of life is like that of the year.”
The season for love is when youth's in its prime; Ye lads and ye lasses make use of
your The froft of old age will too quickly appear, The Winter of life is like that of the year.
o'er the plain,
When lads and their laffes are on the green met, They dance and they fing, they laugh and they chat, Contented and happy, with hearts full of glee, I can't without envy their merriment fee ; Those pastimes offend me, my shepherd's not there, No pleasure I relish that Jockey don't share, It makes me to figh, I from tears scarce refrain, I wish my dear Jockey return’d back again.
But hope shall sustain me, nor will I despair,
VOUNG Jockey is the blytheft lad
That ever maiden woo'd,
For he is kind and good :
His words in rapture flow,
I have no power to go.
All other lasses he forsakes,
And flies to me alone;
To me he makes his moan :
And ribbons for my hair,
Nor half so kind and fair.
HE bird that hears her nestlings cry, , Returns impatient thro' the sky,
To nurfe the callow brood :
But bodes a thousand harms :
When absent from her arins.
Such fondness with impatience join'd
My faithful bosom fires ;
All fimiles are vain,
Or to relieve my pain.
For heav'n and joy divine ;
More pure, more warm than mine :
'Twere impious to say more ; Convey my longings to the fair, The goddess I adore.
All I ask of MORTAL MA N.
HE wanton god who pierces hearts
Dips in gall his pointed darts,
Rofy wine, rosy wine,
Farewel, lovers, when they're cloy'd;
Sure they're free, sure they're free,
They have their charms while mine can please, I love them much, but more my ease; Jealous fears me ne'er moleit, Nor faithless vows shall break
reft. Break my rest, break my reft, Nor faithless vows shall break
Why should they ever give me pain,
While he can, while he can,
To like a bird hierome grove to grove,
To wander like the bee ;
Is not enough for me :