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

Grown bold with fuccefs, he ventur'd to take,
A fecond falute-Then 'twas time to awake.
Arife, love, he faid, to the kirk let us flee,
As our hearts play a tune that goes pitty patty.
345
WHEN hope was quite funk in defpair,
My heart it was going to break,
My life appear'd worthlefs my care,
But now I will fav't for thy fake.
Where'er my love travels by day,
Wherever he lodges by night,
With me his dear image fhall stay,
And my foul keep him ever in fight.
With parience I'll wait the long year,
And study the gentlest charms,
Hope time away till thou appear,

For ay to lock thee in my arms.
Whilft thou was a shepherd I priz'd,
No higher degree in this life,
But now I'll endeavour to rife

To a height that's becoming a wife.
For beauty, that's only skin deep,

Muft fade like the gowans in May,
But inwardly rooted will keep

For ever without a decay.
Nor age nor the changes of life

Can quench the fair fire of love,
If virtue's ingrain'd in the wife,

And the husband have fenfe to approve,
346

WHEN laft we parted on the plain,
Fond Damon feem'd full lothe to go;
He kifs'd and faid, That soon again

He'd come and wou'd not leave me fo;
For that, fays he, the time is near,

And then, my love, I do defign,
It is the best day in the year,

To come and be your Valentine.

I wish'd the tedious hours to fly,

And long'd the look'd for day to fee;

And as the time then grew fo nigh,
How bleft, thought I, will Nancy be!
The morning came, and at my door

I heard a noife, that faid, Incline
For once, dear girl, if never more,
To rife and be my Valentine.
A thoufand fears disturb'd my mind,

'Twas Thyrfis there in Damon's stead,
I thought my youth was quite unkind,
Nor knew what should be done or faid.
I hop'd it could not be a fin,

In fpite to Damon now not mine, I let the kinder Thyrfis in,

And was that fhepherd's Valentine. Nor what I did I now repent,

For fickle Damon foon as light, To Lucy on that morning went,

Nor has been fince from out her fight! And Thyrfis, late but half lov'd fwain, Is now both all and only mine; I blefs the time that once was pain, He came to be my Valentine.

347

WHAT is he gone? and can it be?

And is the then more fair than me? The fight of her might give me pain; Bring her not near me, fickle fwain! And fince that you can leave me so, Go get you gone, for ever go. Oh! I in rage wou'd madly tear, This gaudy ribband from my hair; Thefe hated gifts I'd have him take; I'll wear no baubles for his take; I fcorn the gifts and hands untrue; For her hey well enough may do. How near was I when with a kiss, He afk'd my heart to answer yes! To hear him at the altar fay, Vows he'd have broke the fooneft day! There he may love and take his fill, And fwear to her just what he will,

Ari

A rival's pow'r I now defy,
She may be bleft, and fo will I;
Before 'tis long I'm sure to find,
Afwain more fuited to my mind;
Then farewel, Florio, now for good,
I wou'd not have you if I cou'd.

348

To court me young Colin came many a mile,
And oft by my fide he has fat;
His meaning I often requested to know,
And wonder'd what he would be at.
To gain me he faid many pretty fott things,
Defcribing the height of his paffion;

When often I've bid him to hold his fool's tongue,
Tho'-faith-'twas against inclination.
I could not help laughing fometimes I declare,
When he wore that he lov'd beyond measure;
He'd kiss me, and-ghing-he'd kits me again,
Protefting I was his whole pleasure :
When I bid him forbear-my heart it said-no,
'Twas not in my heart to deny;
And when he requested, if I'd be his wife,
That moment-I thought I fhou'd-die.
The girl that fays no, never meant it as fo,
Tho' feemingly prudish or fly;

She may fay what the will-but cannot difown
That no-the word-yes-does imply.

Oft times as he wa k'd he would tell a love-tale,
that for me he shou'd die;

And vow,

But rather than fuch a mischance fhould e'er hap,
I thought I'd much better comply.

My heart all the time, how it play'd pit a-pit,
The minute he urg'd his request !

And if, to be teiz'd-I thought any more,
It wou'd, to the purpose-be beft.

He whispers fuch things as no virgin should hear,
And he preffes my lips with a warmth I can't bear.
With ftories of love he would foften my mind,
And his eyes fpeak a temper to mischief inclin'd;
But I vow not a moment I'll truft him alone,
And when next he grows rude I will bid him be gone,
Of honour and truth not a word has he spoke,
And his actions declare he thinks virtue a joke:
He fhall find his mistake in he ventures to try i
For, than yield on fuch terms, oh! Irather would die.
With no creature befide he fuch freedom dare take,
Yet the handsome and witty he quits for my fake:
But how can I think that he loves me the beft?
Or how can I love him who'd break all my reft?
Oh! Jocky, reform, nor be foolish again,
Left you lose a fond heart you shall never regain :
If you change your behaviour, to church we will go,
I'll forgive all that's paft, and will never fay no.

I always reply, that his courting won't do.
He fpares no rich presents to make me more kind,
And exhaufts in my praife all the wit of his mind,
I fay, I'm engag'd, and i with him to go;
He asks me fo oft, till I rudely fay no.

To Thyrfis laft Valentine's day, the dear youth,
I tell him I plighted my faith and my truth;
That wealth cannot peace and contentment bestow,
And my heart is another's-fo beg he will go.

That love is not purchas'd with titles and gold,
And the heart that s honeft can never be fold,
That I fight not for grandeur, but look down on show

the church in the village next morning we went, And to Thyrfis muft haften, nor anfwer him no.

All nonfenfe being over and done,

The prief at the altar upited our hands,
And Colin and I were made one.

He hears me and trembling all over, replies,

If his fuit I prefer not he inftan ly dies:

He gives me his hand, and would orce me to go;

1 pity his fuff'ring, but boldly fay, no.

try to avoid him in hopes of fweet peace;

He haunts me each moment to make me say Yes:

L 2

But to-morrow, ye fair ones, with Thyrfis I go ;
And truft me, at church, that I will not fay, no.

351

WHEN I enter'd my teens, and threw playthings
I conceiv'd my felf woman, and fit for a bride; [afide
By the men I was flatter'd, my pride to enhance;
For the maids will believe and the men will romance.
They fwore that my eyes the bright di'mond excell'd,
Such a face and fuch treffes fure ne'er were beheld,
That to gaze on my neck was all rapture & trance!
Oh, the maids will believe and the men will romance.
Young Polydore faw me one night at the ball,
And fwore to my charms he a conqueft muft fall;
On his knees he intreated my hand for a dance,
Ah, the maids will believe and the men will romance.
He conducted me home when the paftime was o'er,
And declar'd he ne'er faw fo much beauty before,
He ogled and figh'd, as he faw me advance,
Ah, the maids will believe and the men will romance.
Then day after day I his company had :
At length he declar'd all his flame to my dad;
But my father lov'd money and would not advance,
And reply'd to my lover, Young men will romance.
But tho' my papa would not give us a fhilling,
My Polydore (wore he to wed me was willing;
So to church we both went, & at night had a dance,
And believe me, my Polydore did not romance.
352

WHEN firft the youth his fears forfook,
And that he lov's I fondly heard,
What sweetness was in ev'ry look!
What eloquence in ev'ry word!

From her whole flore, to make me blefs'd,

Did fortune bid me chufe;

How gladly would I all the reft

For love and him refufe.

353

The girl that has beauty, tho' small be her wit
May wheedle the clown or the beau,
The rake may repel, or may draw in the cit,
By the ufe of that pretty word No.
When powder'd toupees around are in chat,
Each friving his paffion to fhew,
With kiss me, and love me, my dear, and all that,
Let her answer to all bè, ✪ no.

when a dofe is contriv'd to lay virtue afleep,
She still muft refufe, if her empire she'll keep,
A prefent, a treat, or a ball,

And No be her anfwer to all.

But when Mr. Dapperwit offers his hand,
Her partner in wedlock to go;

A house and a coach, and a jointure in land,
She's an ideot, if then she says no.

But if he's attack'd by a youth full of charms,
When prefe'd to his bofom, and clasp'd in his aim,
Whese courtship proclaims him a man;
Then let her fay no, if she can.
WHEN vapours o'er the meadows die,

354

And morning ftreaks the purple sky,
I wake to love with jocund glee,
To think on him who doats on me.
When eve embrowns the verdant grove,
And Philomel laments her love,
Each figh I breathe my love reveals,
And tells the pangs my bofom feels.
With fecret pleasure I furvey,

The frolic birds in am'rous play,
While fondeft cares my heart employ,
Which flutters, leaps, and beats for joy.

355

WHEN firft my dear laddie gade to the green hill

And I at ewe-milking first show'd my young skill

THE lafs that would know how to manage a man, To bear the milk bowie nae pain gave to me,

Let her liften and learn it from me,

His courage to quell, or his heart to trepan,

As the time and occafion agrée,

So at eve I was bleft with thy piping and thee,
For aye as I milk'd, and aye as 1 fang,
My yellow hair'd laddie shall be my good man.

Whe

When corn riggs waved yellow, and blue hether bells Bloom'd bonny on moorland, or fweet rifing fells; Vae birns, briers, or brakens, gave trouble to me, o I eat the fweet berries when gather'd by thee; "oraye as I walk'd, and aye as i fang

Ay yellow-hair'd laddie shall be my good man. When you ran, or you wreftled, or putted the ftane, and came off the victor, my heart was aye fain, live me still all these pleasures, my ftudy thall be, o make myself better and fweeter for thee; or aye as I wedded, and aye as I fang,

ly yellow-hair'd laddie fhall be my good man,

356 VHEN I fee my Strephon languish, With his tender love oppreft, hen I fee his pain and anguish, Pity moves my tender breaft. rephon's plain and humble nature Mov'd me first to hear his tale; rephon's truth, by every creature, Is proclaim'd through all the vaie. ove and am belov❜d again,

more fhall Strepbon figh in vain ! e try'd his faith, and find it true, ad all my coyness bid adieu.

357

O take in good part the fqueeze of the hand, lat language of lovers who dare not demand, nd when with another as close and as dear, ou have made him believe his happiness near; ben to tell him a tale of a cock and a bull, [fool. bat you meant no such thing, but was playing the he tread on the toe to admit and be free, nd ftraight to reply with the toe repartee; o exprefs with your eyes your inward defires, nd thus with full hopes to kindle his fires; Then to tell him a tale, &c.

Then he wants to difclofe what he dares not reveal; hen he looks very filly, and means a great deal ; Then he thinks, it e'er thinking fhou'd enter his Il now grant his wifh, the cafe of his pain;[brain Then to tell him a tale, &c.

[Po let him, enraptur'd, proceed on to blifs; To fuffer the fnatch or the theft of a kifs; When covness retreating unwillingly flies; when fighs anfwer murmurs, and eyes talk to eyes; Then to tell him, &c.

358 YOUNG Thyrfis, ye thepherds, is gone;

I look all around for the fwain: He's fled, and joy with him is flown; He leaves me to forrow and pain. Where is it I madly wou'd rove?

Can ye tell me what's left worth my stay? Too late I perceive it was love

All the while led my fancy aftray.

What avails if I tarry behind,

Now my heart he has ftole quite away?
No comfort on earth fhall I find,
No reft or by night or by day.

When he fung, oh! I liften'd with glee:

When he fmil'd, how I languifh'd and figh'd! Ne'er thought I the moment to fee,

Than to fee I cou'd wish to have died.

But who is it comes o'er the green,
'Tis Thyrfis, the dear, wish'd-for youth;
Not death e'er shall part us, I ween,

For than death is much stronger his truth.
The mufe faw them meet in the grove;
Saw the maid and the shepherd all bleft:
He vow'd to be true to his love;

She dares not to whisper the reft.
WHY will Delia thus retire,
359

And languish all her life away, While the fighing crowd admire ?

'Tis toc foon for hartfhorn tea..
All thofe difmal looks and fretting
Cannot Damon's life restore;
Long ago the worms have eat him,
You can never fee him more.

Once again confult your toilette,
In the glafs your face review,

So much weeping foon will spoil it, And no fpring your charms renew. I like you was born a woman,

Well I know what vapours mean; The disease, alas ! is common; Single, we have all the spleen. All the morals that they tell us, Never cur'd the forrow yet: Chufe, among the pretty fellows, One of humour, youth and wit. Pr'ythee hear him ev'ry morning, At the least an hour or two; Once again at night returning :I believe the dofe will do. 360

ONE morning young Roger accofted me thus,

Come here, pretty maiden, and give me a bufs.
Lord! fellow, faid 1, mind your plough and your cart;
Yes, I thank you for nothing, thank you for nothing,
Thank you for nothing with all my heart.
Well then, to be fure, he grew civil enough,
He gave me a box, with a paper of fnuff;
I took it, I own, yet had ftill fo much art
To cry, thank you for nothing with all my heart.
He faid, If fo be he might make me his wife-
Good Lord! I was never fo dafh'd in my life;
Yet could not help laughing to fee the fool ftart,
When I thank'd him for nothing with all my heart.
Soon after, however, he gain'd my confent,
And with him, on Sunday, to chapel I went ;
But faid, 'twas my goodness more than his defert,
Not to thank him for nothing with all my heart.
The parfon cry'd, child, you must after me fay,
And then talk'd of honour, and love, and obey;
But faith, when his reverence came to that part,
There I thank'd him for nothing with all my heart.
At night our brisk neighbours the stocking would
I must not tell tales, but I know what I know; [throw,
Young Roger confeffes I cur'd all his fmart,
And I thank'd him for fomething with all my heart.

By time and other fwains made wife,
Began to talk of hearts and eyes,
And love, ah well-a-day!
And love, &c.

Kind nature now took Colin's part;
My eyes inform'd against my heart:
My heart, ah well-a-day!
My heart, &c.

Strait glow'd with thrilling fympathy,
And echo'd back each gentle figh,
Each figh, ah well-a-day!
Each figh, &c.

Can love, alas! by words be won ?
He afk'd a proof, a tender one.
While I, ah well-a-day!
While I &c.

In filence blufh'd a fond reply:
Can the who truly loves deny?
Ah no, ah well-a day!
Ah no, &c.

362
As t'other day in harmless chat,
With Sylvia I was walking,
Admining this, admiring that,
Together sweetly talking;
Young Damon met us in the grove,
With joy in every feature;

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