He sang her Love Songs, as he sat at his work; But she was as hard as a Jew, or a Turk. Whenever he spake, she would flounce and would fleer; Which put the poor Cobbler quite into despair. Derry down, down, down, derry down.

He took up his awl that he had in the world; And to make away with himself was resolved! He pierced through his body, instead of the sole. So the Cobbler he died; and the bell it did toll. Derry down, down, down, derry down.

And now, in good will, I advise as a friend,
All Cobblers take warning by this Cobbler's end!
Keep your hearts out of love! for we find, by what's

past,

That love brings us awl to an end at the last.
Derry down, down, down, derry down.

THE LONDON LASS.

WHAT though I am a London Dame,
And lofty looks I bear a;

I carry, sure, as good a name

As those who russet wear a!

What though my clothes are rich brocade;
My skin it is more white a

Than any of the Country Maids,

That in the field delight a!

What though I to Assemblies go,
And at the Opera shine a;
It is a thing all Girls must do,
That will be Ladies fine a!
And while I hear FAUSTINA sing
Before the King and Queen a;
My eyes, they are upon the wing,
To see if I am seen a!

My Pekoe and Imperial Tea
Are brought me in the Morn a;
At Noon, Champagne and rich Tokay,
My tables do adorn a;

The Evening then does me invite

To play at dear Quadrille a: And, sure, in this, there's more delight Than in a purling rill a!

Then, since my fortune does allow
Me to live as I please a;
I'll never milk my father's cow,

Nor press his coming cheese a!
But take my swing, both night and day;

I'm sure it is no sin a!

And as for what the grave ones say,
I value not a pin a!

I SAID to my heart, between sleeping and waking, 'Thou wild thing! that always art leaping, or aching! What Black, Brown, or Fair, in what clime, in what nation,

By turns has not taught thee a pit-a-pat-ation?'

Thus accused; the wild thing gave this sober reply:
'See the heart without motion, though CŒLIA pass by!
Not the beauty she has, nor the wit that she borrows,
Gives the eye any joys, or the heart any sorrows!

'When our SAPPHO appears, she whose wit so refined
I am forced to applaud with the rest of mankind,
Whatever she says is with spirit and fire!
Ev'ry word I attend; but I only admire!

'PRUDENTIA as vainly would put in her claim;
Ever gazing on heaven, though Man is her aim.
'Tis Love, not Devotion, that turns up her eyes!
Those stars of this world are too good for the skies!
'But CLOE So lively, so easy, so fair!

Her wit so genteel, without art, without care! When she comes in my way, the motion, the pain, The leapings, the achings, return all again!'

O, wonderful creature! a woman of reason!

Never grave out of pride; never gay out of season! When so easy to guess, who this angel should be, Would one think Mrs. HowARD ne'er dreamt it was she?

CONSTANCY.

How firmly fixed, I thought my heart, When PHYLLIS first I knew ;

So deep the wound, so sharp the dart, I must be ever true!

Such dazzling charms her glances shot! Her eyes, such pointed rays!

I sighed; and wished it were my lot Eternally to gaze!

Long did I serve the gentle Dame,
Pine, languish, and adore!
Till, on a time, PASTORA came;
And PHYLLIS was no more!

PASTORA seized my heart with joy;
Small cause had she to boast!
For, soon, the restless wand'ring toy
Was to BELINDA lost!

I thought BELINDA was divine,
So fair, so gay, so young!
BELINDA! I had still been thine;
If CHLOE had not sung

For BELVIDERA, next, I bled;
And wooed her with my tears!
Till DELIA took me, in her stead;
And AMORET, in hers!

Like me, ye Swains! your time improve;
And Woman's pride will fall!

Be never true to One in love;
But constant to them All!

ON A LADY'S FAN.

I SLYLY stole this secret Charm, In hopes my CHLOE to disarm. The artifice was mean and poor; And she as potent as before!

Let Jove, his thunder lay aside; His Godhead soon will be defied! If VENUS but her Zone remove; You would not know the Queen of Love! And CUPID, maugre all his skill,

Without his bow, could never kill!

Fair Nymph! thy boundless power I own Dependent on thyself alone!

Superior thou, in every part,
Alike to Nature, as to Art!