GAY

3

Damon long ftudied my heart to obtain, The prerty'ft young fhepherd that pipes on the plain; I'd hear his foft tale, then declare 'twas amifs, And I'd often fay no, when I long'd to say yes. And I'd often, &c.

Laft Valentine's day to our cottage he came,

And fent me two lambkins to witness his flame;
Oh! take thefe he cried, thou more fair than their
I could hardly fay no tho' afham'd to fay yes. [fleece,
I could hardly, &c.

Soon after one morning we fat in the grove,
He prefs'd my hand hard, and in fighs breath'd his
Then tenderly afk'd, if I'd grant him a kifs, [love,
I defign'd to've faid no, but mistook and faid yes.
I defign'd, &c.

While at this, with delight, his heart danc'd in his
Yegods he cried, Chloe will now make me bleft[ breaft
Come, let's to the church, and share conjugal blifs,
Το prevent being teiz'd, I was forc'd to lay yes,
To prevent, &c.

I ne'er was fo pleas'd with a word in my life,
I ne'er was fo happy as fince I'm a wife;
Then take, ye young damfels, my counsel in this,
You must all die old maids if you will not fay yes.
You must all die, &c.

The little god eyes me,

And thinks to surprise me, But my heart is awake in my breaft, Thus boys flily creeping, Would catch a bird fleeping, But the linnet's awake in his neft.

5

THIS cold flinty heart it is you who have warm'd
You waken'd my paffions, my fenfes have charm'd;
In vain against merit and Cymon I ftrove,
What's life without paffion, fweet paffion of love,

Sweet paffion, fweet paffion, fweet passion of love.
The froft nips the buds and the rose cannot blow,
From youth that is frost-nipt no rapture can flow,
Elyfium to him but a defert will prove,
What's life without paffion, fweet paffion of love.
The fpring fhould be warm, the young feafon be gay,
Her birds and her flow'rets make blith fome sweet
Love bleffes the cottage & fings thro' the grove[ May;
What's life without paffion, fweet paffion of love.

6

Sandy, why leav'st thou thy Nelly to mourn, Thy prefence could ease me, When naithing can please me, Or through the wood, laddie, until thou return, Now dowie I figh on the banks of the bourn, Tho' woods now are bonny, and mornings are clear, While l'av'rocks are finging,

And primroses fpringing,

Yet nane of them pleafes mine eye or mine ear,
When thro' the wood, laddie, ye dinna appear.
That I am forfaken fome spare not to tell,
I'm fafh'd wi' their fcorning,
Baith ev'ning and morning,

Their jeering goes aft to my heart wi' a knell,
When thro' the wood, laddie, I wander myfel'.
Then ftay, my dear Sandy, no longer away,
But quick as an arrow,

Hafte here to thy marrow,
Who's living in languor till that happy day,
When thro' the wood, laddie, we dance, fing & play.

༡

FORGIVE, ye fair, nor take it wrong,

If aught too much I do ; Permit me while I fing my fong,

To give a leffon too :

Let modefty, that heaven born maid,
Your words and actions grace;
'Tis this, and only this can add,
New luftre to your face.

'Tis this which paints the virgins cheeks
Beyond the power of art;
And ev'ry real blufh befpeaks,
The goodness of the heart;
This index of the virt'ous mind
Your lovers will adore;

This, this will leave a charm behind,
When bloom can charm no more.
Infpir'd by this, to idle men

With nice referve behave ;
And learn by distance to maintain,
The power your beauty gave:
For this when beauty muft decay,
Your empire will protect;
The wanton pleafes for a day,
But ne'er creates refpect.

With this, their filly jeft reprove,

When coxcombs dare intrude;

Nor think the man is worth your love,
Who ventures to be rude;

Your charms, when cheap, will ever pall,
They fully with a touch;

And tho' you mean to grant not all,
You often grant too much.

But, patient let each virtuous fair,
Expect the gen'rous youth;

Whom heaven has doom'd her heart to fhate, And bleft with love and truth:

For him alone referve her hand,

And wait the happy day;

"When he with juftice may command,

And he with joy obey.

WHAT harm in fo fimple a token of love,
I cull'd him the prime of the garden and grove
He wore it fresh blooming and glitt'ring with d
Yet Lucy's neglected, and William's untrue.
Can fmiles and foft accents derifion convey,
No mifchief fo fubtle, fo fatal as they ;
He brags of the prize in each meadow and glad
And declares how he pities the helpless poor in

In my quick mounting blushes the virgins defc
What my truth-tutor'd mind is too frank to de
And the cold hearted prudes, ah how wary they
The maiden whom franknefs alone has undon
Your thoughts then,dear fifters,with caution con
The foft growing paffion be flow to reveal;
Diftruft the vain fhepherd whofe temper is fuc
That granting a whisper is granting too much.

Not the fair weather'd fop, fond of fashion & drefs; Nor the 'fquire, who can relish no joys but the chaces Nor the free-thinking rake, who no mortal can bind; Neither this, that, nor t'other's the man to my mind. Neither this, &c.

Not the ruby fac'd fot, who topes world without end; Vor the drone who can't relish his bo tle and friend; Nor the fool that's too fond, nor yet he that's unkind; Neither this, that, nor t'other's the man to my mind. Neither this, &c.

་

In all their fports upon the plain,
My eyes ftill fix'd on him remain,
And him alone approve;
The reft unheeded dance and play,
From all he steals my praife away,
And can he doubt my love.

Whene'er we meet my looks confefs
The joys which all my foul poffefs,
And ev'ry care remove;
Still, ftill, too fhort appears his stay,
The moments fly too fast away,

Too faft for my fond love.
So pleas'd I am with all he fays,
Does any fpeak in Damon's praife,

I ev'ry word approve; But is he blam'd, altho' in jeft, feel refentment fire my breaft,

Alas! becaufe I love.

But oh! what tortures tear my heart, When I fufpect his looks impart

The leaft defire to rove;

I hate the maid that gives me pain,
Yet him to hate I firive in vain,
For ah! that hate is love.

Then afk not words, but read my eyes,
Believe my bluthes, truft my fighs,
My paffion these will prove;
Words oft deceive and spring from art,
The true expreffion of
my heart

To Damon must be love.

27

Whene'er

Whene'er he trips the meads along,
He fweetly joins the wood-lark's fong;
And when he dances on the green,
There's none fo blythe as Colin feen:
If he's but by I nothing fear,
For I alone am all his care;

Then fpite of all my friends can say,
He's ftole my tender heart away.
My mother chides whene'er I roam,
And feems furpriz'd I quit my home;
But fhe'd not wonder that I rove,
Did the but feel how much I love:
Full well I know the gen'rous fwain
Will never give my bofom pain;
Then fpite of all my friends can fay,
He's ftole my tender heart away.
14

Το
pleafe me the more, & to change the dull fcene,
My fwain took me oft to the fports on the green;
And to ev'ry fine fight would he tempt me to roam,
For he fear'd left my heart fhould grow tired of home.
To yield to my fhepherd, fo fond and fo kind,
I left my dear cot and true pleasures behind;
And oft as I went faw 'twas folly to roam.
For falfe all the joy was that grew not at home.
To flirt, to be prais'd, was to me no delight,
I figh'd for no fwain with my own in my fight;
Then how could I wifh all abroad thus to roam,
When love and contentment were always at home?
Like the bird in the cage, who's been kept there too
I'm bleft as I can be, and fing my glad fong; [long,
I ask not again in the woodlands to roam,
Nor chufe to be free, nor to fly from my home.
Ye nymphs, and ye fhepherds, fo frolic and gay,
Who in roving now flutter your moments away;
Believe it, my aim fhall be never to roam,
But to live my life thro', and be happy at home.

With a laugh they point at us as paffing along,
And Colin and Nell are their jest and their song.
Sufpicion long whisper'd it over the green,
But Scandal now tells what the never has feen;
Wherever we wander, yet fafter the flies,
What we do, or we fay the reflects with her lies.
How we trip all by moonlight to love-haunted bow'rs;
How we toy and we kifs at the fweet gilded hours:
All this, and yet more, if she will she may name,
For we meer without crime,& we part without fhame
I own that I love him, he's fo to my mind,
And waits with impatience till fortune's more kind;
I ftill will love on till our fate's to be blesk,
And the talk may be louder it fha'nt break our reft.
Let malice her tongue and her eyes all employ,
And envy do all to embitter our joy;
The time that is coming fhall foften the paft,
And crown the gay nymph and her Golin at last,
16
How blithe was I each morn to see,

My fwain come o'er the hill!
He leap'd the brook, and flew to me;
I met him with good will:"

I neither wanted ewe nor lamb,

When his flocks near me lay?
He gather'd in my sheep at night,
And chear'd me all the day.
Oh! the broom, the bonny broom,
Where loft was my repofe;
I wish I was with my dear fwain,

With his pipe and my ewes.
He tun'd his pipe and reed fo fweet,

The birds stood lift'ning by;..
The fleecy flock stood still and gaz'd,
Charm'd with his melody:

While thus we spent our time, by turns,
Betwixt our flocks and play,

I envy'd not the faireft dame,
Tho' e'er fo rich and gay.
Oh, the broom, &c.

H

In vain do I ftrive to remove him;

Affliction to reafon is blind;

In fpite of his failings I love him;
He's charming, tho' falfe and unkind.
19

GENTLE youth, oh ! tell me why,
Still you force me thus to fly;
Ceafe, oh! cease to perfevere,
Speak not what I must not hear;
To my heart its ease reftore,
Go, and never fee me more.

20

WHEN unrelenting fates ordain
That lovers ne'er fhou'd meet again,
What object round can joy impart,
Or wean from woe the bleeding heart!
In fhades and filent fcenes we find
The only joy that foothes the mind;
There, uncontroul'd, fond thoughts may rove,
And back recall the hours of love.

But, ah! when balmy hope is fled,
To pleafure's voice the heart is dead;
Then mem'ry only wakes to fhew
How deep the wretch is funk in woe.
The failor thus, who, far from shore,
Hears all night long the tempeft roar,
Soon as the morning lights the fkies,
Beholds his veffel bulge-and dies.