AIR I.
WHILE the cool and gentle breeze

Whispers fragrance through the trees,
Nature walking o'er the scene
Clad in robes of lively green,
From the sweetness of the place
Labour wears a chearful face.

II.

AIR
THOUGH

my

features I'm told Are grown wrinkled and old, Dull wisdom I hate and detest,

Not a wrinkle is there

Which is furrow'd by care, And my heart is as light as the best

Whca When I look on my boys

They renew all joys, Myself in my children I see;

While the comforts I find

In the kingdom my mind, Pronounce that my kingdom is free.

In the days I was young,

O! I caper'd and fung;
The lafies came flocking apace.

But now turn'd of threescore
I can do so no more,
Why then let my boy take my place,

of our pleasures we crack,

For we still love the smack
And chuckle o'er what we have been;

Yet why should we repine,

You've had yours, I've had mine, And now let our children begin.

AIR III,
"TIS thus in those toys

Invented for boy:s
To fhew how the weather will

proveo
The woman and man

On a different plan
Are always directed to move,

One

One goes out to roam

While t'other keeps home, Infipid, and dull as a drone,

Though near to each other

As fister and brother,
They both take their airing alone.

A IR IV.

WHEN the head of

poor

TUMMAS was broke
By Roger, who play'd at the wake,
And Kate was alarm’d at the stroke,
And
wept

for
poor

TUMMAS's fake;
When his Worship gave noggins of ale,

And the liquour was charming and stout, O those were the times to regale,

And we footed it rarely about.

Then our partners were buxom as does,

And we all were as happy as kings,
Each lad in his holyday cloaths,

And the lasses in all their best things.
What merriment all the day long!
May the feast of our COLIN

prove

suche Odzooks, but I'll join in the song,

And I'll hobble about with my crutch.

1

A IR V.

WHEN

vapours o’er the meadow dic,
And morning streaks the purple sky,
I wake to love with jocund glee
To think on him who doats on me.

When eve embrowns the verdant grove
And PHILOMEL laments her love,
Each sigh I breathe, my love reveals
And tells the pangs my bosom feels.

With secret pleasure I survey
'The frolick birds in amorous play,
While fondest cares my heart employ
Which Autters, leaps, and beats for joy.

AIR VL.

a

YES that's * a magazine of arms

To triumph over "Time;
Whence beauty borrows half her charms

And always keeps her prime.

At that the prude, coquette, and saint,

Industrious fets her face,
While powder, patch, and wash, and paint,
Repair or give a grace.

Toarch the brow there lies the brush,

The comb to tinge the hair,
The Spanish wool to give the blush,

The pearl to die them fair.

Hence rise the wrinkled, old, and grey,

In freshest beauty strong, As Venus fair, as Flora gay,

As Hebe ever young.

AIR VII.

GO! feek fome nymph of humbler lot,
To share thy board, and deck thy cot,
With joy I fly the simple youth
Who holds me light, or doubts my truth.

Thy breast for love too wanton grown,
Shall mourn it's peace and pleasure flown,
Nor shall my faith reward a swain,
Who doubts my love, or thinks me vain.

AIR VII.

THUS laughid at, jilted, and betray'd,

I ftamp, I tear, I rave; Capricious, light, injurious maid,

I'll be no more thy llave,

VoL, LXVIII,

Dd

I'U