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Sweet Lucinda, heav'nly fair,

Mild as May, or dawning light, Can my heart thus falfe appear?

Could deceit approach thy fight? Or a wanton with arife, 'Neath the chaftnefs of thofe eyes? LUCINDA.

Gentle youth, your gen'rous tale, Oft has charm'd me in the grove ; I't no more my flame conceal,

Nor diftruft the fwain I love : But 'tis time our flocks to feed, And our lambs to pasture lead. Вотн.

Thro' the pearly, glift'ning dew, To the fold then let us hafte; Hear, the tender, bleating ewes, Long the morning herb to tafte; And at noon, within the grove, We'll renew our vows of love.

SONG 1043.

THE PLACEMAN. A

THE patriot in the fenate burns,
Harangues on ev'ry thing by turns;
Religion, liberty, and laws,
His much-lov'd country's facred caufe!

By place or penfion well apply'd,
The premier gains him on his fice:
His country's ardent love is o'er?
The facred caufe inflames no more.

ong did my heart fecure defy
The shafts of many a brilliant eye i

And ftill it's liberty could boaft "

At cafe, while toast reign'd after toast.
Now, Hymen, if you wish to gain
This heart, defended long in vain ;
My penfion be Eliza's charms !
My place, for life, her faithful arms!

SONG 1044..

Written by Mr. W-LL-S.
WITH Phillis how oft have I ftray'd,
O'er hill, dale, and in the green grove!
How pleas'd to attend the fweet maid!
To tell her how fondly I love.

My Phillis fuch charms does impart,
Such beauties difplay to the view!
From me he has ftelen a heart;

A heart that will ever prove true.
She lends a kind ear to my tale;
With fmiles the my toil does reward;
And when I my paffion reveal,

Her looks fully speak her regard.
What mortal mere happy can be!
What cares can my bofom alarm!
Whilst Phillis, dear girl, is fo free;
Poffefling each power to charm.

But fhould the e'er flight her fond swain,
And leave me her lofs to deplore,
Then, Lethe, relieve me from pain,
And let me not think of her more.
Not think of her more-did I fay?
How vain fuch an effort would prove!
For, long as I live, I each day

Muft think of her charms, and ftill love.

SONG 1045.

Written by Mr. SELLEW.

TO fpeak my mind, of womankind,
They are unfettled creatures;

I never yet, two females met
Alike, except in features.

We ever find, that like the wind,
They frequently are changing;
From morn till night, their chief delight,
In fearch of folly's ranging.

They gad about, from ball to rout,

On fcandal ever feeding;
They talk and chat, of this and that,

To show their fenfe and breeding.
Puff'd up with pride-fo vain befide,

They ne'er will wisdom learn; And when once bent, they're fo intent, As foon the tide you'll turn. Seldom pleafing, often teizing; Murmuring if they're ty'd; If fui jurls, then they're furies, Never, never fatished.

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STREPHON; A PASTÓRÁL BALLAD.

Written by Mr. HAWKINS. AS Strephon was ftrolling along to the fair,

So blithefome, fo bonny, and quite debonair, Reclin'd in a grove a young thepherdless lay,, To rest her awhile from the heat of the day. Her sheep had been ftraying wide over the plain, And one he had loft, which he fought for in vain,

That drove the dear damfel almost to despair, For doleful fhe feem'd, and dejected her air. In filence the fwain fat him down on a stile,. To hear her complainings, then spoke with a fmile,

That rouz'd'all her paffions, and thrill'd thro' her heart;

So keen was his arrow, fo piercing his dart:
For the of a fudden forgot all her care,
And tripp'd it with Strephon away to the fair;
Where topknots he bought her, the best he
could find,

Likewife a ftraw-hat, for to him she was kind.

Her looks were delightful, her charms were

most sweet;

Her dress, tho' not gaudy, was cleanly and neat; From pride and ambition the maiden was free; Untainted her mind, and fo virtuous was the. The youth, as he view'd her, the fonder he grew,

And vow'd he would ever be faithful and true: He promis'd to banish all forrow and ftrife; And made the dear damfel, next morning, his wife.

SONG 1047.

THE WINTER WISH. Written by Mr. MAVOR. STRIPT is the foliage of the trees, No flow'rs the fields adorn; No more the balmy weftern breeze, Or fweetly fmiling morn!

No more the bright Apollo fheds

His warm prolific ray;

But chearless, in his car pervades
The short-liv'd, brumal day.

When rattling hail burfts from the sky,

And dances o'er the plain;
When the roof echoes, tempefts fly,

And roaring winds complain;

When fable night, with ebon wand,
Brings tedious darkness on,
And bids fair Cynthia, at command,
Sit throuded on her throne;

Then, dearest Celia, deign to fmile,
Nor fcorn a mutual love ;

Thy miles the blackeit ftorms beguile,
The richest joys improve.

With rapture while I catch the found,
That fpeaks my flame repaid,
How fwift my glowing heart will bound,
To fee my blufhing maid!

O! be our love or lot the fame,

Thro' every scene below;
Be ours an unextinguish'd flame,
When age has thed it's fnow:

Then, whether fpring in colours gay
Adorns the genial ground,
When mufic warbles from each fpray,
And all is bloom around;

Or whether winter's fullen waste,
Deforms the gailefs year;

No anxious care hail fill my breast,
No vifionary fear.

Calmnly ferene thro' life I'll glide,
And think each season kind;
Till doom'd to fail th' eternal tide,
1 leave no with behind.

SONG 1048.

SUMMER,

Written by Mr. BIST.

NOW the lufcious fweets are flown,
Spring's forfook her ebon throne ;
Summer now, in rich array,
Bears alone defpotic sway;
Blushing now, in early bloom,
Spreads around a rich perfume;

While the gentle zephyrs play,
Boasting fweets that equal May.

Now Pomona's fweets we taste,
Smiling at the rich repast,
Which her labours ever yield,
Banquets, rich and nobly fill'd;
Bright Aurora's fcorching beams,
Gild the azure flowing streams.

While the gentle zephyrs play,
Boafting fweets that equal May,

View the fertile hills and plains, Where the fmiling goddess reigns; Ceres, ever kind and true, Cultivates her crops for you;

And the cheatful nightingale Warbies forth her tender tale. While the gentle zephyrs plav, Boafting fweets that equal May.

SONG 1049.

By Mr. R-GB-Y.

FAREWEL all the joys which of late I poffeft,

When with Sylvia's bright presence and fight I was bleft;

How fwift fled the hours, undisturbed with care, No fears durft intrude, when along with my fair.

Her cheeks were like rofes, her fhape like the pine,

Her perfon and action were furely divine;
To her perfon alone were not graces confin'd,
Tho' lovely her body, moré charming her mind.

How short-liv'd is beauty! how frail is our ftate!

Ah, who can foresee the intentions of fate!
The roses are wither'd, infipid they lie!
Ah, who can be fafe, when fuch beauty muft
die !

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In her the power to charm is feed,
With unaffected wit and sense;
A truly great, yet humble mien,
Effulgent truth and innocence.
And when no more these virtues fhine,
Save in the bright historic page,
Or in her own illuftrious line,
Prolong'd by heav'n from age to age;

Still Britannia

Her grateful voice fhall raife, In joyful strains,

To Charlotte's praise.

SONG 1051.

Written by Mr. DAWRE.

BACCHUS, ged of rofy wine,
Shed your influence divine;

Fill to the brim the sprightly bowl,
Nought but wine can chear the foul.
By this Alexander fought;
By this god-like Plato thought:
This was, fure, the facred fpring,
Where the mufes us'd to fing.

Mirth by this will ever smile,
This will ev'ry care beguile;
Ev'ry joy and focial bl:fs,
Rifes hence, and moves to this.

Love may beat his foft alarms,
This excels e'en Nancy's charms:
Often frowns deform her face;
Wine has everlasting grace.

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ANACREONTIC.

Written by Mr. TOMLINS.

I Crave not Gyge's boundless pow'r,
Nor with I for the golden flore;
I envy not the regal state

Of pompous kings, fupremely great;
For mirth and joy alone I care,
And wreaths of rofes for my hair.
To-day 1 banish ev'ry forrow,

Nor think I of the coming morrow.

While chance permits, we'll drink and laugh,
And Bacchus' gifts in goblets quaff;
For fooner than we with comes death,
And tops our drinking, and-our breath.

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And feen the blithe fhepherd repair from his | In ev'ry charm there lies a dart,

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Or ken'd the rude husbandman fpeed to his toil,

With heart that was happy, contented and free;

O! how our young bofoms have ponder'd the while,

And cull'd fweet reflection for Damon and me! And pity'd the wealthy, enrolled in ftate,

That ne'er tafted joys from delights fuch as thefe ;

Let them fmile in their fhackles, be proud to be great,

We boafted our freedom, and cherish'd our cafe!

The moffy green turf, with pied daifes crown'd,
Exceeded the carpet's most beautiful dye;
The wild rofy thorn scatter'd perfume around,
Our mufick the notes from each songster
hard by.

No honours to deck, nor no titles to grace,
A heart free from guile we enclofed within;
No falle affectation with us found a place,

Or hypocrify's mask our actions to screen. Blooming health ftrung our nerves, and flush'd on our cheeks,

It breath'd thro' each bush, and fang thro' the trees;

While fickness, appall'd, from our prefence did creep,

And clogg'd the high breaft with her loathfome disease,

We purchas'd no pleasures, they flow'd free as air,

From nature-deck'd beauties around us difplay'd;

No Gigh from our bofoms, the boder of care,

E'er pierc'd the dark grot, or e'er fullied the shade..

With true patriot feelings enraptur'd we glow'd,

To fee (miling Ceres her vot'ries repay; And hail'd the beneficient hand that beftow'd, With ardour unknown to the free-thinking

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In ev'ry glance a snare.

How they recal the youthful mind
From ev'ry glorious aim,

Fill the foft breaft with racks and fears,
And blaft the buds of fame!

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In the next let the gay wives of Windfor If love now bids beauty be kind,

appear,

Where the knight in the basket difcovers his

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SONG 1056.

TO-MORROW.

Sung at VAUXHALL.

I Heed not, while life's on the wing,
What fate or what fortune may bring,
Nor think or of care or of forrow;
Would you know why so happy and gay;
I've liv'd, my companions, to-day,

And will wafte not a thought on to-morrow.
What pleasures already are flown,
The joys my fond heart might have known,
I could not repeat without forrow;
When eagerly brimm'd the brisk wine,
When Jove, half-consenting, was mine,
A whisper came, stay till to-morrow.
I'll live, for I'm wiser at last,
The prefent fhall pay for the paft,

No moment of future I'll borrow;
The cheat now I fairly defcry;
On to-day you must only rely,

Look not for a friend in to-morrow.

I'll catch ev'ry fwift-flying hour,

I'll tafte ev'ry joy in my pow'r,

And teach you to smile away forrow :

If you've nectar to gladden your mind, Have nothing to do with to-morrow.

SONG 1057.

Sung in Cymon.

I Laugh, and I fing,

I am blithefome and free,, The rogue's little fting, It can never reach me: For with fal, la, ¡à, la ! ́ And ha, ha, ha, ha! It can never reach me. My fkin is fo tough, Or fo blinking is he, He can't pierce my buff, Or he miffes poor me. For with fal, la, la, la! And ha, ha, ha, ha! He miffes poor me. O, never be dull, By the fad willow tree: Of mirth be brimful, And run over like me. For with fal, la, la, ah! And ha, ha, ha, ha! Run over like me.

SONG 1058.

AH! Chloris, could I now but it

As unconcern'd as when
Your infant beauty could beget

No happiness nor pain!
When I this dawning did admire,
And prais'd the coming day,
I little thought that rifing fire
Would take my rest away.

Your charms in harmless childhood lay
As metals in a mine;

Age from no face takes more away
Than youth conceal'd in thine:
But as your charms infenfibly
To their perfection preft,
So love, as unperceiv'd, did fly,
And center'd in my breaft.

My paffion with your beauty grew,
While Cupid, at my heart,
Still as his mother favour'd you,

Threw a new flaming dart:
Each gloried in their wanton part;
To make a beauty, the
Employ'd the utmost of her art;
To make a lover, he.

SONG 1959.

LET poets tell of fhape and air,.

Of faces beauteous, lovely, fair, There's nought on earth that can compare With hair the charms of Nelly.

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