The humming bird. A collection of the most celebrated English and Scots songs

DEFEND my heart, ye virgin pow'rs,
From am'rous looks and fmiles;
And fhield me, in my gayer hours,
From love's deftructive wiles:
In vain let fighs and melting tears
Employ their moving art,
Nor may delufive oaths and pray'rs
E'er triumph in my heart.

My calm content and virtuous joys
May envy ne'er moleft,
Nor let ambitious thoughts arife
Within my peaceful breaft;
Yet may there fuch a decent ftate,
Such unaffected pride,

As love and awe at once create,
My words and actions guide.
Let others, fond of empty praife,
Each wanton art display,

While fops and fools in raptures gaze,
And figh their fouls away:
Far other dictates I purfue,

(My blifs in virtue plac'd)
And feek to pleafe the wifer few,
Who real worth can taste.

Too late for redrefs, and too foon for my cafe,
I faw you, I lov'd, and I wifh'd I could pleafe;
Reflection stood ftill, while I fancy'd your eyes
Read the language of mine, and reply'd to my fighs:
Thus cheated by hope I unheeded went on,
And judg'd of your heart by the throbs of my own:
Delufive fond hope feem'd, alas! to perfuade,
That friendship, that kindness, with love was repaid.
But, alas! all is chang'd, and with anguish I find
Words and looks prove but civil, which once I thought
Idea no longer its fuccour will lend,
[kind;

To form the fond lover, or fix the firm friend :
Then hufh my poor heart, and no longer complain,
Thy honour, thy virtue, pronounce it is vain;

Thy thoughts fwell to crimes; drive this love from thị Perform well thy duty, let fate do the reft. [bieaf 24

GENTEEL is my Damon, engaging his air;
And his face, like the moth, is both ruddy and fair
No vanity fways him, no folly is feen;
But open's his temper, and noble's his mien.
With prudence illumin'd his actions appear;
His paffions are calm, and his judgment is clear:
Soft love fits enthron'd in the beams of his eyes;
He is manly, yet tender; he's fond, yet he's wif
He's young and good-humour'd; he's gen'rous & ga
And his voice can, like mufic, drive forrow away
An amiable foftnefs ftill dwells on his fpeech;
He's willing to learn, tho' he's able to teach.

He has promis'd to love me as long as I live,
And his heart is too honeft to let him deceive:
Then blame me, ye virgins, if justly ye can;
Since merit and fondnefs diftinguish the man.

YE verdant woods, ye chrystal streams,

On whose enamell'd fide
I fhar'd the fun's refreshing beams,
While Jocky was my guide.

No more your fhades or murmurs please
Poor Sylvia's love-fick mind;
No rural fcenes can give me ease,
Since Focky proves unkind.
Come, gloomy eve, and veil the sky
With clouds of darkest hue;
Wither, ye plants; ye flow'rets die,
Unchear'd with balmy dew.

e wildly warbling birds, no more Your fongs can foothe my mind; ly hours of joy, alas! are o'er, Since Focky proves unkind.

11 hie me to fome dreary grove, For fighing forrow made,

Where nought but plaintive ftrains of love Refound thro' every shade.

Where the fad turtle's melting grief,

With Philomela's join'd,
Alone fhail yield my heart relief,

Since Jocky proves unkind.

le warn'd by Sylvia's fate, ye maids,
And fhun the foft deceit;
Tho' love's own eloquence perfuades,
'Tis all a dangerous cheat.

ly, quickly fly, the faithlefs fwain,
His baffled arts despise;

o fhall you live exempt from pain,
While hapless Sylvia dies.
28

F'tis joy to wound a lover,

How much more to give him ease,
When his paffion we discover,
Oh! how pleafing 'tis to please!

Ceafe, O ceafe, then this complaining,›
Such perfidious arts difdaining,

Let bright honour once more reigning,
To your foul its rays impart,
Gentle Damon, &c.

LET the nymph ftill avoid and be deaf to the swain
Who in tranfports of paffion affects to complain;
For his rage, not his love, in his frenzy is fhown,
And the blaft that blows loudest is foon overblown.
But the shepherd whom Cupid has pierced to the heart
Will fubmiffive adore, and rejoice in thy fmart;
Or in plaintive foft murmurs his bofom-felt woe,
Like the fmooth-gliding current of rivers will flow.
Tho' filent his tongue, he will plead with his eyes,
And his heart own your fway with a tribute of fighs
But when he accofts me in meadow or grove,
His tale is fo tender, he coos like a dove.

-35

WHEN I was a young one, what girl was like
[me?

So wanton, fo airy, and brifk as a bee;
I tattled, I rambled, I laugh'd, and where'er
A fiddle was heard, to be fure I was there.
To all that came near I had fomething to say;
'Twas this Sir, and that Sir, but fcarce ever nay:
And Sundays, dreft out in my filk and my lace,
I warrant 1 ftood by the beft in the place.
At twenty I got me a husband, poor man!
Well reft him; we all are as good as we can ;
Yet he was fo peevish, he'd quarrel for ftraws,
And jealous, tho' truly I gave him some cause.
He fnubb'd me and huff'd me, but let me alone,
Egad! I've a tongue, and I paid him his own,
Ye wives take the hint and when spouse is untow'rd
Stand firm to your charter, and have the laft word.
But now I'm quite alter'd, and more to my woe;
I'm not what I was forty fummers ago:
This Time's a fore foe; there's no fhunning his dart
However, I keep up a pretty good heart.

BENEATH a fragrant myrtle fhade,
One morn ferene bright Delia laid,

On moffy couch reclin'd;
By turns fhe view'd the fun and sky,
The purling ftream that murmur'd by,
And through the meadows wind.
The tuneful choir their voices raise,
And chant their sweet melodious lays,

Soft warbling trains of love,"
The fleecy flocks in blithfome round,
Skip wanton o'er th'enamel'd ground,
And sport along the grove.

Thrice happy ftate, the fair one cried,
Secure from envy, fcorn, and pride!

Here love fhail ever reign;
Come Damon take my willing hand,
Thy Delia yields to Hymen's band,

And fighs to bless her swain.
Oh! leave yon gaudy train behind,
Give state and grandeur to the wind,
Exclude gay pomp and noise,

Tho' I tell him he'll wait a great while! le brought me this nofegay fo fweet, And thought it more pleasure than toil, took it, referv'd and difcreet,

But I'll not let him wait a great while: fe begg'd me to grant him a kifs, So earnest, he made me quite fmile; lave done, I cried, fie! 'tis amifs,

Tho' I wish'd it to laft a great while! le tells me, I ought to be kind,

That time all my beauties will fpoil; crofs him tho' quite of his mind, For I love he fhould talk a great while. fancy by what he has faid,

My hulband he'll be by his ftile, And when he once afks me to wed,

Oh? I'll not let him wait a great while!

When the leaves are green, and meadows fmile, When the hawthorns bud and blow,

And the Spring doth the wintry care beguile; While birds are melodiously finging,

And gold-spotted cowflips are springing,

How fresh the flowers, the fields how fair,
For ah! I meet my Colin there,

To the wake I love to go,

When autumnal flow'rets my ringlets deck, When the ribbons loosely flow,

And wavingly wanton adown my neck;
As I trip it o'er the furrow,
My heart is a ftranger to forrow;
For be it a wake, or feaft, or fair,
I'm fure to meet my Colin there.

At e'en I love to go,

When the jocund laffes and lads are feen,' With a fkip and a bound like the roe,

Purfuing their fports on the laughing green While they run the quick changeable measure, I feel my heart panting with pleasure, The dance I join, the paftime share, For ftill I meet my Colin there.

To the church I long to go,

With the merry men and maidens gay,' All in dreffes white as fnow,

And blith as the fpring in the month of May
My friends and companions with pofies,
With garlands and favours and rofes,
Shall ftrew the ground, and braid my hair,
For I'm to meet my Colin there.

38 -
ERE love did firft my thoughts employ,
Returning day ftill faw me bleft,
Each happy hour came wing'd with joy,
Each night was crown'd with balmy reft
But now, alas! no longer gay,

I rife to hail the chearful light,
I fit and figh the live-long day,
And pafs in tears the fleepless night,
Come, lovely Strephon, hither hafte,
Sure thou haft long perceiv'd my mind ;
I fear my words I vainly waste,

That thou art cruel and unkind :

Ceafe, O ceafe, then this complaining,
Such perfidious arts difdaining,

Let bright honour once more reigning,
To your foul its rays impart,
Gentle Damon, &c.

LET the nymph ftill avoid and be deaf to the fwain
Who in tranfports of paffion affects to complain;
For his rage, not his love, in his frenzy is fhown,
And the blaft that blows loudeft is foon overblown.
But the shepherd whom Cupid has pierc'd to the heart
Will fubmiffive adore, and rejoice in thy fmart;
Or in plaintive foft murmurs his bofom-felt woe,
Like the fmooth-gliding current of rivers will flow.
Tho' filent his tongue, he will plead with his eyes,
And his heart own your fway with a tribute of fighs
But when he accofts me in meadow or grove,
His tale is fo tender, he coos like a dove.

WHEN I was a young one, what girl was like
So wanton, fo airy, and brifk as a bee;
[me?

I tattled, I rambled, I laugh'd, and where'er
A fiddle was heard, to be fure I was there.

To all that came near I had something to say ;
'Twas this Sir, and that Sir, but fcarce ever nay:
And Sundays, dreft out in my filk and my lace,
I warrant I stood by the beft in the place.

At twenty I got me a husband, poor man!
Well reft him; we all are as good as we can ;
Yet he was fo peevish, he'd quarrel for ftraws,
And jealous, tho' truly I gave him fome cause.
He fnubb'd me and huff'd me, but let me alone,
Egad! I've a tongue, and I paid him his own,
Ye wives take the hint and when spouse is untow'rd
Stand firm to your charter, and have the laft word.
But now I'm quite alter'd, and more to my woe;
I'm not what I was forty fummers ago:
This Time's a fore foe; there's no fhunning his dart
However, I keep up a pretty good heart.

Grown old, yet I hate to be fitting mum.chanc
I ftill love a tune, though unable to dance^;
And, books of devotion laid by on my shelf,
I teach that to others I once did myself.
34
How
happy were my days till now!
I ne'er did forrow feel;
With joy I rofe to milk my cow,

Or take my spinning wheel.
My heart was lighter than a fly,

Like any bird I fung,

Till he pretended love, and I

Believ'd his flatt'ring tongue.
O the fool! the filly, filly fool,
That trufts what man may be !
I wish I was a maid again,

And in my own country.

35
BENEATH a fragrant myrtle shade,
One morn ferene bright Delia laid,

On moffy couch reclin'd;
By turns fhe view'd the fun and fky,
The purling ftream that murmur'd by,
And through the meadows wind.
The tuneful choir their voices raise,
And chant their sweet melodious lays,

Soft warbling trains of love,"
The fleecy flocks in blithsome round,
Skip wanton o'er th'enamel'd ground,
And fport along the grove.

Thrice happy ftate, the fair one cried,
Secure from envy, fcorn, and pride!

He e love fhall ever reign;
Come Damon take my willing hand,
Thy Delia yields to Hymen's band,

And fighs to blefs her fwain.
Oh! leave yon gaudy train behind,
Give ftate and grandeur to the wind,
Exclude gay pomp and noise,

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