In fuch an heav'nly form, I cry'd, I thought her conftant, free from pride, But foon my judgment falfe I find, Can godlike virtue be her guide, Can fhe lay claim to beauty's pow'r, As foon as found fhe's loft. Ixion thus his arms had caft Around his fleeting fair; SONG 767. A Good repute, a virtuous name, As the unerring path to fame, This precious ointment, gently fhed, And where the fragrant med'cine's spread, Yet hard it is to use it right, Tho' beautiful to view; It fhines diftinguishingly bright, Like glafs it glitters, foon 'tis crackt, All moralifts allow the fact, When things inanimate cou'd speak, It happen'd that, the day before Each left their different ftation, They chofe a third, worth twenty more, And that was Reputation. The three companions now reflect, If chance thou'd once divide 'em, How each their letters might direct, Or who fhou'd fureft guide 'êm. Says Water, Friends, you'll hear my name, Sometimes from deep cafcades I pour, Where marshes flagnate, bogs extend, A path the bulrush nods. Your reftlefs make (quoth Fire) I know, I love to rove as well as you, In poets all my marks you'll fee, Since fmoak and flash reveal me; E'en Blackmore can't conceal me. Thro' various forms I fhift; The beft of flaves I'm call'd by men, When bound in proper durance; Alas! poor Reputation cry'd, Such ill has fate defign'd me ; SONG 768. Sung at the NONSENSICAL CLUB. 'Tis nonfenfe we fing, and we deal in, Thus free from reftraint, on we rattle, Should nonfenfe from human kind fever, What numbers must straight away run! The beau pick his teeth muft for ever, The chatt'ring coquet be undone. The bards would have little to write on, The lawyers have little to say, The criticks would nought have to bita on, The non-cons not know how to pray. Befides, for a plague wit is fent ye, It's owners for ever are poor; SONG 769. ANACREONTIC. THE mufes once intent on play Young Cupid roving caught, With flow'ry wreaths they ty'd his hands, Fond Venus ranges all the plain SONG.770. THoughtless of all, but love and you, The murm'ring ftream, the fruitful field, Yet if my Delia but appears, The murm'ring ftream, the fruitful field, Alike to me, all pleafure yield, He'd make her fame eternal, And fing away her cares. And thus her mind declares. My honour wants no Hector So, captain, march along. So let me have a fong. But just then in the nick, Sir, Now play'd before her eyes. Sung at VAUXHALL. NEAR a hawthorn, I met on the plain I talk'd in ftrong terms of my pain, I love her, I own, very much, 'Tis true, but I never fhall marry. My companions all loudly complain, With them that I now never tarry; I can bear a vaft deal of love's fmart, How bounteous is nature; how wond'rous her Such freedom offended, fhe bade me beware, plan! This copfe, but a moon or two past, Presented no object attractive to man, Bat, murmuring, fhrunk from the blast : For envy (the faid) might be near; And fcandal, who never fhews things as they I thought it but reafon; I bade her not fear: Said nought that was ill fhould befal; I lov'd her too well to give caufe for a tear, To bitter her honey with gall. From the daily-deck'd fod then together we rofe, O'er the meadows I led her alon;; Such wit and vivacity fhine in her eyes, more, But fall at her feet, and her wisdom adore. Such, fuch is my Delia, and Venus would be Not fo charming, fo fair, nor in lovely to me. Grac'd my lay with the truth she was pleas'd And if Heaven so kind to my prayers shall prove, to difclose, And I gave it the ruftical throng. SONG 776. JENNY is a charming creature, But fince Jenny has no dower, More content than landlords prove. Since, gallants, 'tis gold must win ye, And the most deferving Jenny Wants the reconciling pence; Call not fortune blind, nor Cupid; Sparks are felfish, false and ftupid, Merit is above their fenfe. Surg at VAUXHALL. FLOW, murm'ring river, flow; There fhun the noontide beam: Fair quiet here I find, This foothes my thoughtful mind; I thank thee, gentle ftream. SONG 778. THO' to others fome fairer than Delia may be, Yet none are so fair, or so lovely to me, So free is each motion, so charming each grace, Such good-humour and fweetness appear in her face. That as I love her, so she also may love; SONG 779. THE FOX CHACE; AN ODE. Written by Mr. NICHOLLS. RECITATIVE. HARK! from that cottage by the filent ftream, How fweet the fwallow greets the rifing gleam Of light, that dawns upon the eastern hill, Tipping with grey the fails of yonder mill; And hark! from the farm below the watchful cock Warns the dull shepherd to unfold his flock; Imbibe the health that fresh Aurora yields. AIR. Now indolence fnores upon pillows of down, And in vain beg the bleffing of eafe: Can the flaves of a court, can the mifer fay this? RECITATIVE. See to the copfe how the dogs feud alang, They've found out the drag of the foe; And hark! how the huntfmen ride houting along, He's now in the cover below. AIR. Our fathers of old lov'd the fport, The heart-chearing toil to embrace. Curft lux'ry was yet in the bud; A fribble they feldom could meet; Erecting his butterfly mien. Could our ancestors rife from their graves, At fight of the gay-fpangled train, They'd fly the degenerate flaves, And wish to be bury'd again. May fuch never taste of our joy, We hunters difclaim the whole race; Whilft time over tea they deftroy, We re lot in the chaims of the chace. SONG 780. LAVINIA; A PASTORAL. WHY fteals from my bofom the figh? Why fix'd is my gaze on the ground? Come, give me my pipe, and I'll try To banish my cares with the found. Shou'd it now the gay carrol refuse? With rapture I counted them o'er; I knew her, and prais'd them no more. |