What doubts diftract a lover's mind? ************* SONG kind; ********* CCXLV. DEAR Tom, this brown jug that now foams with mild ale, In which I will drink to sweet Nan of the vale, It chanc'd that in dog-days he fat at his ease, In his flower-woven arbour, as gay as you please, With a friend and a pipe puffing forrow away, And with honeft old ftingo was foaking his clay, His breath-doors of life on a fudden were fhut, And he died full as big as a Dorchester butt. His body, when long in the ground it had lain, And time into clay had refolv'd it again, A potter found out in its covert fo fnug, And with part of fat Toby he form'd this brown jug, SONG CCXLVI. HAY'S BONNY LASSI E. Y smooth winding Tay a fwain was reclining, Myfell thus awa', and darena discover Nae mair it will hide, the flame waxes stronger; She's fresh as the fpring, and sweet as Aurora, When birds mount and fing, bidding day a good morrow; The fwaird of the mead, enamell'd with daifies, Looks wither'd and dead when twin'd of her graces. But if the appears where verdure invites her, The fountains run clear, and flowers fmell the fweeter; 'Tis heaven to be by when her wit is a flowing, Her fmiles and fweet eye fet my fpirits a glowing. The mair that I gaze, the deeper I'm wounded, Struck dumb with amaze, my mind is confounded, I'm all in a fire, dear maid, to caress ye, For a' my defire is Hay's bonny laffie. 学 SONG CCXLVII. BONNY LASS LIE IN A BARRACK. Bonny lafs will you lie in a barrack, And marry a foger and carry his wallet? Yes I will go, and think no more on it, I'll neither ask leave of my minnie nor daddie, I O bonny lafs will you go a campaigning? Will you fuffer the hardships of battle and famine ? When fainting and bleeding, O cou'd you draw near me? And kindly fupport me, and tenderly chear me? O yes T Neither hunger, nor cold, nor dangers alarm me, *** SONG CCXLVIII. LAST TIME I CAME O ER THE MUIR. THE laft time I came o'er the muir, I left my love me: Ye powers! what pain do I endure, Beneath the cooling fhade we lay, Even Kings, when he was nigh me; Which cou'd but ill deny me. Shou'd I be call'd, where cannons roar, In all my foul there's not one place Since the excels in every grace, On Greenland-ice fhall roses grow, Before I ceafe to love her. The next time I gang o'er the muir, And that my faith is firm and pure, SONG CCXLIX. THE YELLOW-HAIR'D LADDIE. IN N April when primroses paint the sweet plain, And fummer approaching rejoiceth the swain; The yellow-hair'd laddie would often times go To wilds and deep glens where the hawthorn trees grow. There, under the fhade of an old facred thorn, The fhepherd thus fung, Tho' young Maya be fair, That Madie in all the gay bloom of her youth, Like the moon was inconftant, and never spoke truth; But Sufie was faithful, good-humour'd and free, And fair as the goddess that fprung from the fea. That mamma's fine daughter, with all her great dow'r, Was aukwardly airy, and frequently fowr; Then, fighing, he with'd, wou'd parents agree, H ER fheep had in clusters kept close to a grove, And Phillis herself, in a woodbine alcove, Among the sweet violets lay: A youngling, it seems, had been ftole from its dam, That Corydon might, as he search'd for his lamb, As thro' the gay hedge for his lambkin he peeps, He faw the fweet maid with furprise; "Ye gods! if fo killing," he cry'd, "when she fleeps, "I'm loft when she opens her eyes! "To tarry much longer would hazard my heart, "I'll onwards my lambkin to trace :" In vain honeft Corydon ftrove to depart, "Hush, hufh'd be these birds, what a bawling they keep (He cry'd) you're too loud on the spray; "Don't you fee, foolish lark, that the charmer's asleep! "You'll awake her as fure as 'tis day: "How dare that fond butterfly touch the sweet maid! "Her cheek he mistakes for a rofe; "I'd put him to death, if I was not afraid 66 My boldness would break her repose.” Young Phillis look'd up with a languishing fmile: . The fhepherd took courage, advanc'd with a bow, |