S O

Ο N G S

IN

THE CAPRICIOUS LOVERS.

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.

THOUGH my features I'm told
Are grown wrinkled and old,
Dull wifdom I hate and deteft,

Not a wrinkle is there

Which is furrow'd by care,

And my heart is as light as the best.

When

When I look on my boys

They renew all joys, Myfelf in my children I fee;

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 laffes came flocking apace.

But now turn'd of threefcore

I can do fo no more,

-Why then let my boy take my place.

Of our pleasures we crack,

For we ftill love the fmack
And chuckle o'er what we have been;
Yet why fhould 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 boys

To fhew how the weather will prove

The woman and man

On a different plan.

Are always directed to move,

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 ftout,
O thofe 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 laffes in all their best things.
What merriment all the day long!
May the feast of our COLIN prove
Odzooks, but I'll join in the fong,
And I'll hobble about with my crutch.

fuch.

AIR

AIR V.

WHEN vapours o'er the meadow die,
And morning ftreaks 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 figh I breathe, my love reveals
And tells the pangs my bofom feels.

With fecret pleasure I furvey
The frolick birds in amorous play,
While fondest cares my heart employ
Which flutters, leaps, and beats for joy.

AIR VI.

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 faint,
Induftrious fets her face,

While powder, patch, and wash, and paint,

Repair or give a grace.

*The Toilettea

Το

To arch 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 rife the wrinkled, old, and grey,

In freshest beauty ftrong, 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 fimple 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 fhall my faith reward a swain,

Who doubts my love, or thinks me vain.

AIR VII.

THUS laugh'd at, jilted, and betray'd,

I ftamp, I tear, I rave; Capricious, light, injurious maid, I'll be no more thy flave,