In nothing he'll borrow from folks of high life Nor e'er turn his back on his friend,or his wife. I love Sue, &c. While thus I am able to work at my mill, While thou art kind, and thy tongue but lies fill; Our joys fhall continue, and ever be new, And while the wind blows, SONG A PASTORAL 1230. BALLA D. Sung at VAUXHALL. STREPHON arofe at early dawn, Nor knew the hapless shepherd where: Each dell, each brake he travers'd round; Each pathlefs wood and flow'ry vale, But not one lambkin could be found. Cælia, he cry'd, my flocks are fled, How fhall I e'er thy grief affwage? How fhall I chear thy drooping head, If poverty fhould mark my age? Said the, My love, misfortune's dart Is pointed, and is spent in vain; While I poffefs my fhepherd's heart, I laugh at ills, and smile at pain. Tho' ev'ry lambkin devious stray, And grace our envious neighbours folds, Nought can thy Cælia's foul dismay, While Strephon to her breast she holds. Said he, My warmest thanks, O take! Hence fhalt thou be my only care; If I thy virtues e'er forfake, May Heav'n regardless hear my pray'r. If from thy lovely form mine eyes Should fwerve but in the least degree; Thy dear idea will arife, And lead the wand'rer back to thee. Thus long they liv'd, and long they lov'd, As oft I've heard the story told; Kind Heav'n their fortitude approv'd, And amply fill'd the shepherd's fold. SONG 1231. YE woods and ye mountains unknown, By fountain, or hill, or in grove ; His heart will explain what the means, Who fings both from forrow and love More foft than the nightingale's fong, Oh! waft the fad found to his ear; Written by Mr. GARRICK. The fun firft rifing in the morn, As does my lovely Peggy: When Zephyr on the vi'let blows, I ftole a kifs the other day, Was the array'd in ruftic weed, To please my lovely Peggy: Our labour is o'er, our barns in full ftore His cann and his lafs in his hand : For Ceres, &c. No courtier can be fo happy as we, In innocence, paftime, and mirth; While thus we caroufe, with our sweetheart or spouse, And rejoice o'er the fruits of the earth: When Ceres bids play, and keep holiday, SONG 1234. ON a primrofy bank, by a murmuring stream, Paftora fat finging, and I was her theme; Whilft charm'd with her beauty, behind a green bush, I liften'd to hear her fweet tale with a blufh. Of all the young shepherds that pipe on the reed, 'Tis Damon alone I can fancy, indeed; I tell him I value him not of a rush, When I went to the grove at the top of the hill; And the kind prefent receiv'd with a blush. Whenever he meets me, he'll fimper and imile; 1 feem as I did not obferve him the white, He offers to kiss me, I give him a push; One Sunday he came to intreat me to walk, Twas down in a meadow, and love was our talk; He call'd me his deareft-Pray, Damon, be hush; There's fomebody coming! I cry'd, with a blush: My mother the chides when I mention the fwain; Forbids me to go to the meadow again: But fure for his fake I will venture a brush; Thus warbled the fair, and my heart leap'd for joy, Though little fhe thought that her Damon was nigh; But chancing to fpy me behind a green bush, She ended her fong, and arofe with a blush. SONG 1235. A SCOTCH BALLAD. Sung at VAUXHALL. YOUNG Jockey fought my heart to win, And woo'd as lovers woo; 1, vers'd in all our fex's art, Did juft as maidens do: And when he prefs'd his fate to know, At length he made a bold effay, And now, believe me, when I will, Your mufic has charm'd me, your wine has alarm'd me, When I have feem'd coy, and hard to be won; When both have been moving, I could not help loving, And wine has compleated what music begun. The gods, ftruck with wonder, declar'd by Jove's thunder, They'd mutually join in fupplying love's flame: So each in their function, mov'd on in conjunction, To melt with foft pleasure the amorous dame. SONG 1239. OBSERVE the rofe-bud ere it blows, So beauty's bafhful bud appears, And wither'd fo in age decays. And rudely fheds the falling rofe. See, beauty, fee! how love and joy On youth's light pinions hafte away; How fwift the moments glide along, And age advances with delay! Now, beauty, crop the rofe-bud now, SONG 1240. CLARISSA's charms poor Strephon ftruck; He fain would have been billing: But yet the fair the lad forfook, To fhew her power of killing. Forth from her eyes fuch beauties start, They mortal man confounded: The youths were whipp'd quite thro' the heart, Ere they knew they were wounded. But when old Time, with fcythe so sharp, Had cross the forehead ftruck her, And ev'ry charm began to warp, The ftriplings all forfook her. Oh! then the hag began to curse, Her time the país'd no better, She hope'd fome youth would take her, Sure fomewhere, unweeting, the charmer has ftray'd, That nor her, nor her sheep, I have seen! But I hardly had spoke, e'er I faw the (weet maid Come tripping it over the green. Ah! help me, my love, my Amintor! fhe cried, What ails my Paftora?-Alas! she reply'd, |