Brifk as a body-loufe the trips,

Clean as a penny dreft,
Sweet as a rofe her face and lips,
Round as a globe her breast.

Full as an egg was I with glee,

And happy as a king;

Good lack! how all men envy'd me!

She lov'd like any thing.

But falfe as hell, the like the wind

Chang'd as her fex most do, Tho' feeming as the turtle kind, And as the gospel true.

If I and Molly could agree,

Let who will take Peru; Great as an emp'ror I fhould be, And richer than a Jew.

Till you grow tender as a chick,

I'm dull as a any post;
Let us like burrs together ftick,
And warm as any toast.
You'll know me truer than a die,
And with me better sped,
Flat as a flounder when I lie,
And as a herring dead.
Sure as a gun fhe'll drop a tear,

And figh, perhaps, and with;
When I'm as rotten as a pear,
And mute as any fish.

And milk agree,

To fet cold brains a thinking; Power and wealth,

Beauty, health,

Wit and mirth in wine are crown'd:
Joys abound,
Pleafure's found

Only where the glass goes round.

The ancient fects on happiness
All differ'd in opinion;
But wifer rules

Of modern schools,

In wine fix their dominion.
Power and wealth, &c.

Wine gives the lover vigour,

Makes glow the cheeks of beauty,
Makes poets write,
And foldiers fight,
And friendship do it's duty.
Power and wealth, &c.
Wine was the only Helicon,
Whence poets are long-liv'd fo;
'Twas no other main
Than brifk champaign,
Whence Venus was deriv'd too.
Power and wealth, &c.

When heav'n in Pandora's box
All kinds of ill had fent us,

SONG 1265.

COME, all ye jolly Bacchanals,
That love to tope good wine,
Let us offer up a hogfhead
Unto our mafter's fhrine.

And a toping we will ge, &c.
Then let us drink, and never shrink,
For I'll give a reason why;
'Tis a great fin to leave a house,
Till we've drank the cellar dry.
And a toping, &c.

In times of old I was a fool,
I drank the water clear;

But Bacchus took me from that rule,
He thought 'twas too fevere.
And a toping, &c.

He fill'd a goblet to the brim,

And bade me take a fup;
But had it been a gallon pot,
By Jove I'd tofs'd it up.
And a toping, &c.

And ever fince that happy time,
Good wine has been my chear;
Now nothing puts me in a fwoon,
But water or small-beer.

And a toping, Sec.

Then let us tope about, my boys,
And never flinch, nor fly;
But fill our skins brimful of wine,
And drain the bottles dry.
And a toping we will go, &c.

SONG 1266.

YES, Strephon, yes, these charms must fade,
As does the pride of May;

Such fate attends the faireft maid,
Poor fovereign of a day:

Wara'd by the rofe's hafty fall,

I know my longest reign;
Yet, for that pow'r I can't recal,
I'll fcorn to feel a pain.

Then know, falfe man, thy fubtleft arts
Shall ne'er my foul betray,

Nor fear of what old age may bring,

Enslave my heart a day;
True, were my beauty all my boast,
Since that will pafs fo foon,
"Twere not amifs in you to ask,
Or me to grant the boon.

But fped with wifdom's friendly aid,
I ask no happier state;
Should Chloe live and die a maid,
Is that a curfe so great?

No Strephon, no? I've yet one charm,
When all the reft are spent,
Shall of it's cares e'en age difarm
"Tis-virtue, with content.

SONG 1267.

YOUNG Dorilas, an artlefs fwain,
And Daphne, pride of western plain,
Their flocks together drove :
Gay youth fat blooming on his face,
She no less thone with ev'ry grace;

Yet neither thought of love.

With equal joy each morn they meet;
At mid-day, feek the fame retreat,

And shelter in one grove;
At ev'ning haunt the felf-fame walk,
Together innocently talk,

But not a word of love.

Hence mutual friendship firmly grew,
Till heart to heart fpontaneous Lew,
Like bill to bill of dove;
Both feel the flame which both conceal,
Both with the other would reveal,

Yet neither fpeaks of love

She hung with rapture o'er his fenfe;
He doated on her innocence:

Thus each did each approve.
They vow'd, and all their vows obferv'd;
The maid was true, the fwain ne'er fweiv'd,
Then ev'ry word was love.

Still more majestic shalt thou rife,

More dreadful from each foreign ftroke;
As the loud blast that tears the skies,
Serves but to root thy native oak.
Rule, Britannia, &c.

Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame;
All their attempts to bend thee down,
Will but aroufe thy gen'rous flame;

But work their woe, and thy renown.
Rule, Britannia, &c.

To thee belongs the rural reign,

Thy cities fhall with commerce shine';
All thine fhall be the fubject main,
And ev'ry fhore it circles thine.
Rule, Britannia, &c.

The mufes ftill with freedom found,
Shall to thy happy coaft repair:

Bleft ifle! with matchlefs beauty crown'd,
And manly hearts to guard the fair.
Rule, Britannia, Britannia rule the waves;
Britons never will be flaves.

SONG 1269.

TELL me no no more of pointed darts,
Of flaming eyes and bleeding hearts,
The hyperboles of love:

Be honest to yourself and me,
Speak truly what you hear and fee,

And then your fuit may move.
Why call me angel? why divine?
Why muft my eyes the ftars outfhine?
Can fuch deceit prevail?

For fhame, forbear this common rule;
'Tis low, 'tis infult, calls me fool;
With me 'twill always fail.
Would you obtain an honeft heart,
Addrefs my nobler, better part;

Pay homage to my mind;
The paffing hour brings on the day,
And beauty quickly fades away,

Nor leaves a rofe behind.
Let then your open, manly fenfe,
The moral ornaments difpenfe,

And to my worth be true;
So may your fuit itself indear,
Not for the charms you fay I wear,
But thofe 1 find in you.

SONG 1270.

ON tree-topt hill, or tufted green,
While yet Aurora's veft is feen;
Before the fun has left the fea,
Let the fresh morning breathe on me.
To furze-blown heath, or pafture mead,
Do thou my happy footsteps lead;
Then fhew to me the pleafing ftream,
Of,which, at night, fo ot I dream.
At night the mazy wood I'll tread,
With autumn-leaves and dry mofs fpread,
And cooling fruits for thee prepare,
For fure, I think, thou wilt be there.

Till birds begin their evening fong,
With thee the time feems never long;
O let us fpeak our love that's past,
And count how long it has to last.
I'll fay eternally, and thou
Shalt only look as kind as now;
I ask no more, for that affords
What is not in the force of words.

SONG 1271.

SEE the purple morn arife,

Streak with red the blushing skies, Zephyr from his balmy wing, Shakes the fragrance of the fpring. Winter's vigour now is paft, Joy and raptures fmile at laft; Swelling billows ceafe to roar, And die along the filent shore.

SONG 1272. MY fhepherd is gone far away o'er the plain,

While in forrow behind I am forc'd to remain ;

Tho' blue-bells and vi'lets the hedges adorn, Tho' trees are in bloffom, and fweet blows the thorn;

No pleasure they give me, in vain they look

gay,

There's nothing can please now my Jockey's away;

Forlorn I fit finging, and this is my strain, Hafte, hafte, to my arms my dear Jockey again.

When lads and their laffes are on the green met, They dance and they fing, they laugh and they chat,

Contented and happy, with hearts full of glee; I can't without envy their merriment fee: Thofe pleasures offend me, my shepherd's not there,

No pleafure I relish that Jockey don't share;
It makes me to figh, I from tears fearce refrain,
And with my dear Jockey return'd back again.

But hope fhall fuftain me, nor will I despair,
He promis'd he wou'd in a fortnight be here;
On fond expectation my wishes I'll feaft,
For love my dear Jockey to Jenny will hafte:
Then farewel each care, adieu each vain figh;
Who'll then be fo bleft, or fo happy as I?
I'll fing on the meadows, and alter my train,
When Jockey returns to my arms back again.

SONG 1272. Sung in the Oratorio of Abel. HOW chearful, along the gay mead, The daify and cowflip appear? The flocks, as they carelessly feed,

Rejoice in the fpring of the year.

The myrtles that shade the gay bow'rs,

The herbage that fprings from the fod,

You're out, fays Dick; you lye, fays Nick,
The fidler plays it falfe;
So, fays Hugh; and fo, fays Sue;

And fo, fays nimble Al'ce.

The fidler then began to play the tune again, And every maid did trip it, did trip it, did trip it unto the men.

Let's kifs, fays Nan; content, fays Jane;

And fo fays every she; How many, fays Nat? why three, fays Matt, For this is a maiden's fee.

But they, instead of three, did give them half a fcore ;

The men in kindness did give them, did give them, did give them as many more.

Then after an hour, they tript to a bower,
To play for ale and cakes,
And kiffes too, until they were due

The maidens held the ftakes.

The women then began toquarrel with the men, And bid them to take their kiffes back, and give them their own again.

Thus they fat until it was late,

And tir'd the fidler quite,

With finging and playing, without any paying, From morning until night.

They told the fidler then, they'd pay him for his play,

And each gave two-pence, gave two-pence, gave two-pence and went their way.

Good night, fays Cis; good night, fays Prifs;
Good night, fays Harry to Doll;
Good night, fays John; good night, fays Joan;
Good night, fays every one.

Some ran, fome went, fome ftay'd, fome tarry'd by the way;

Each bound themfelves, in kiffes twelve, to meet the next holiday.

SONG 1278.

THE DANGERS OF THE SEA.

CEASE, rude Boreas, bluft'ring railer,
Lift landmen all to me;
ye
Mefs-mates, hear a brother failor
Sing the dangers of the fea :

From bounding billows, firft in motion,
When the diftant whirlwinds rife,
To the tempeft troubled ocean,

When the feas contend with fkies.
Hark, the boatswain hoarfly bawling,

By top-fail fheets, and haulyards ftand;
Down top-gallants quick be hawling,
Down your ftay-fails, hand, boys, hand!
Now it freshens, fet the braces,

The lee top-fail fheets let go;
Luff, boys, luff, don't make wry faces,
Up your top-fails nimbly clew.
Now all you on down-beds fporting,

Fondly lock'd 'twixt beauty's arms;
Fresh enjoyments wanton courting,
Safe from all but love's alarms:

Round us roars the tempeft louder,
Think what fears our minds enthral;
Harder yet, it yet blows harder,
-Now again the boatswain calls.

The top-fail yards point to the wind, boys,
See all clear to reef each course;
Let the fore-fheet go, don't mind, boys,
Tho' the weather fhould be worse:
Fore and aft the fprit-fail yard get,

Reef the mizen, fee all clear;
Hands up, each preventer brace fet,
Man the fore-yard, chear, lads, chear
Now the dreadful thunders roaring,

Peals on peals contending clash;
On our heads fierce rain falls pouring,
In our eyes blue lightnings flash :
One wide water all around us,

All above but one black sky;
Different deaths at once furround us.

Hark! what means yon dreadful cry? The fore-maft's gone! cries ev'ry tongue out, O'er the lee, twelve feet 'bove deck; A leak beneath the cheft-tree's fprung out, Call all hands to clear the wreck: Quick the laniards cut to pieces,

Come, my hearts, be flout and bold; Plumb the well, the leak increases,

Four feet water's in the hold!!

While o'er the ship the wild waves beating,
We for wives or children mourn;
Alas! from hence there's no retreating,
Alas! to them there's no return:
Still the leak is gaining on us,

Both chain-pumps are choak'd below;
Heav'n have mercy here upon us,
Only He can fave us now.

On the lee-beam is the land, boys,

Let the guns o'erboard be thrown,
To the pump come ev'ry hand, boys;
See, her mizen-mail is gone:
The leak we've found, it can't pour faft,
We've lighten'd her a foot or more;

Up and rig a jury fore-mast:

She rights, the rights, boys, wear off fhore.

Now once more on joys we're thinking,
Since kind fortune fav'd our lives;
Come, the cann, boys, let's be drinking
To our fweethearts and our wives:
Fill it up, about ship wheel it,

Clofe to lips the brimmer join;
Where's the tempeft now? who feels it?
None; our danger's drown'd in wine.

SONG 1279.
HAIL! Burgundy, thou juice divine!
Infpirer of my fong!
The praifes given to other wine,

To thee alone belong;
Of poignant wit and rofy charms
Thou canft the power improve;
Care of it's fting thy balm difarms,
Thou nobleft gift of Jove.