T

SONG.

Sung in Robinhood.

HE ftag through the foreft, when rous'd by the horn, Sore frighted, high bounding, flies wretched, forlorn, Quick panting, heart burfting, the hounds now in view,

Speed doubles fpeed doubles! they eager pursue.

But efcaping the hunters again through the groves,
Forgetting paft evils, with freedom he roves;
Not fo in his foul who from tyrant løve flies;
The fhaft overtakes him, defpairing he dies.

Τ

SONG.

Sung in Poor Vulcan.

HE moment Aurora peep'd into my room,

I put on my cloaths, and I call'd for my groom; Wil. Whittle by this had uncoupled the hounds, Who, lively and mettlefome, frisk'd o'er the grounds;. The horses were faddled, fleet Dapple and Grey, Seem'd longing to hear the glad found, hark away.

It was now by the clock about four in the morn,
When we all gallopp'd off to the found of the horn ;-
Dick Garter, Wil. Tabble, and Tom at the Goofe,
When all on a fudden out starts Miftrefs Pufs;
Men, horfes and dogs, not a moment wou d flay,
And echo was heard to cry, hark, hark away!

The chace was a fine one, fhe took o'er the plain,, Which the doubled, and doubled, again and again;; K 5

Till at length fhe took cover, return'd out of breath,
And I and Wil. Whiftle were in at the death;

There in triumph of joy I the hare did difplay,
And I call'd to the horns, my boys, hark, hark away!

SONG.

Sung by Mrs. Wrighten, at Vauxhall Gardens.

OU'D you know, my good friends, what
the honey-moon is,

How long in duration, how perfect in blifs,

A proof may be found and a fample be feen
In fome boarding-fchool couple just left Gretna-green.
My dearest, my duck,

My fweetelt, my chuck;
Mifs Kitty's an Angel, her Billy a God;
Whips crack, glaffes jingle,
While fighs intermingle,

And Cupid affents, and goes niddity nod,
Niddity nod, niddity nod,

O'er Kitty the Angel, and Billy the God,

Papa's and mama's furly tempers once past,
Bright Bloomsbury-fquare has this couple at laft!
In three weeks poffeffion, how pleafures will cloy,
Neglect hurts the lady, and time cools the boy.
So impatient to roam :

Ma'am you're never at home,

A path fo vexatious no wife ever trod ;,
My torment, my curfe;

You are bad. You are worse.

While Cupid flies off, from a quarrel fo odd,

Niddity nod, &c. And Mifs is no Angel, and Billy no God."

To routs hies the lady, to gambling goes mafter, part from each other ne'er couple went fafter.

Το

While raking at night, and distraction at noon,
Soon close all the joys of the fweet honey-moon.
Bleeding hearts, aching heads,
Sep'rate tables and beds,

Render wedlock's fweet countenance duli as a clod,
Then hie for a fummons

From grave Doctors Commons,

While Proctors and parchments go niddity nod,

Niddity nod, &c.

O'er Kitty the Angel, and Billy the God.

TH

SON G.

The Sailor's Returns

HE bufy crew their fails unbending,
The fhip in harbour safe arriv'd ;
Jack Oakum, all his perils ending,
Had made the port where Kitty liv’d.

His rigging-no one dare attack it,
Tight fore and aft', above, below:
Long-quarter'd fhoes, check fhirt, blue jacket,
And trowfers like the driven fnow.

His honeft heart with pleasure glowing,
He flew like lightning to the fide;
Scarce had they been a boat's length rowing,
Before his Kitty he efpy'd.

A flowing pennant gaily flutter'd

From her neat-made hat of ftraw; Red was her creek when first he utter'd, It was her failor that fhe faw.

And now the gazing crew furround her,
While fecure from all alarms,

Swift as a ball from a nine pounder,
They dart into each other's arms..
K 6

SONG.

I

SONG.

Sung in Axtaxerxes.

N infancy, our hopes and fears

Were to each other known;

And friendship, in our riper years,
Has twin'd our hearts in one.

Oh, clear him, then, from this offence,
Thy love, thy duty prove;
Reflore him, with that innocence
Which firft infpir'd my love.

F

SONG.

Sung at Vauxhall.

Recitative..

ROM Paphos ifle, fo fam'd of old, I come,
To raise recruits with merry fife and drum:
The queen of beauty here by me invites,

Each nymph and fwain to taste of weet delights;
Obey the call, and feek the happy land,

Where Captain Cupid bears the fole command.

Ye nymphs and ye fwains, who are youthful and gay,
Attend to the call, aud be bleft while you may;
Lads and laffes hither come,

To the found of the drum,

I have treasure in flore which you never have seen ;
Then hafte, let us rove

To the ifland of love,

Where Cupid is captain and Venus is queen.

Each

Each nymph of fixteen who would fain be a wife,
Shall foon have a partner to blefs her for life,
Then laffes hither come,

To the found of the drum,

I have (weethearts in flore fuch as never were feen;
Haite, hafle, let us rove

To the island of love,

Where Cupid is captain, and Venus is qucen.
Would a fwain but be bleft with a nymph to his mind,
Let him enter my lift, and his wifh he fhall find;
I can bless him for life,

With a kind loving wife,

More beautiful far then was nymph ever feen;
Then hafte, let us rove

To the illand of love,

Where Cupid is captain, and Venus is queen.

In Paphos, we know of no difcord nor ftrife,
Each nymph and each fwain may be happy for life;
In tranfport and joy,
We each moment employ,

And tafe fuch delights as were never yet feen
Then hafte, let us rove

To the island of love,
Where Cupid is captain, and Venus is queen.

IT

SONG.

The Banks of the Dee.

T was fummer, fo foftly the breezes were blowing,
And fweetly the nightingale fung from a tree,
At the foot of the rock, when the river was flowing,
I fat myself down on the banks of the Dee.

Flow on lovely Dee, flow on thou sweet river,
Thy banks pureft ftreams fhall be dear to me ever,
When firft I gain'd the affection and favour
Of Jemmy, the glory and pride of the Dee.

But