EXCHANGING vows of love and truth, Beside a purling stream Sat Joe and Jane in prime of youth, Ye soon shall be a bonny bride, A wee house o'er the burn ye see Let others follow fame and wealth, For greater joys I sigh: I ask of Heaven sweet ease and health, With thee to live and die. me, &c. Gin ye can loo me, &c. PRITHEE, Sally, speak thy mind— Am I the man or no? If I am not, be so kind Pray Pray consider that our prime Think how great would be the crime To let it slip away. If my passion, &c. Tho' my heart prefers your charms, I love to laugh, not cry; Tho' it beats with soft alarms, For no woman will I die. If my passion, &c. YOUNG OUNG William seeks my heart to move, He'll hang or drown, I fear it→ Of pangs, and wounds, and pointed darts, He says I'm pretty-mighty well! But words, we know, are nought but wind; I vow I cannot bear it. The shepherd dances blithe and gay, But downcast looks, and hums and haws, I vow I cannot bear it. I wish some friendly nymph, or swain, Then pluck up courage, like my sex; TO-m O-morrow's a cheat, let's be merry to-day, stay; Who but cowardswould e'er at his summonsrepine? Who but cowards would steal from a liquor divine? For 'tis wine that can blunt the keen thorn of pale sorrow, As it moistens the flow'r that may fade ere to . Since morrow. rosy Contentment dwells not with the great, Leave wealth and dull thinking to slaves of the state; But let mirth and good humour our banquet still share, And wine be our armour against sullen Care: For 'tis wine, gen'rous wine, blunts the thorn of pale sorrow, As it moistens the flow'r that may fade ere to morrow. To-morrow's a cheat--the blest moment let's prize; That's sacred to Love, the delight of the soul. For 'tis wine that can blunt the keen thorn of pale sorrow, As it moistens the flow'r that may fade ere to morrow. DE EAR Nancy I've sail'd the world all around, To make for my charmer each shilling a pound; I've sav'd from my toils many hundreds in gold, The comforts of life to beget; Have borne, in each climate, the heat and the cold, And all for my pretty brunette: Then say, my sweet girl, can you love me? Tho' others may boast of more riches than mine, At their jeers and ill nature I'll scorn to repine, Then say, my sweet girl, can you love me? When order'd afar, in pursuit of the foe, Which fain would persuade me I might be laid low, But But hope, like an angel, soon banish'd the thought, Then say, my sweet girl, can you love me? O' 'ER the parents of Mary, who live in a vale, Now Penury flings the dark shade of her veil; Neglected, forlorn, and all wretched, they shed Reciprocal tears upon Poverty's bed. One child, a sweet girl, was the pride of their years, On whom they bestow'd all their love, all their fears; When they wept she would cry; when they play'd, she would smile; And would grieve undissembling, and laugh without guile. If Nature e'er gave to the loveliest face To all she was fairer than beauty's bright Queen; Atschool she was meek, yet was sprightly and gay, And surpass'd all the girls, save in flirting and play; D3 And |