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The earth fucks the rain, the fun draws the main,
With the earth we are all in a class ;

Then enliven the clay, let us live while we may,
And I'll ftand by my friend and my glass.

'Tis friendship and wine only life can refine : We care not whate'er comes to pafs

With courtiers or great men, there's none of us statesmen: Come-Here's to our friend and our glass.

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LXXXIX.

THROUGH THE WOOD LASSIE.

Nelly no longer thy Sandy now mourn,
Let mufic and pleasure abound without measure,
Let mufic and pleasure, &c.

O'er hillocks, or mountains, or low in the burn,
Or, thro' the wood, laffie, until thou return.
Thro' the wood, laffie, thro' the wood, laffie,
Thro' the wood, thro' the wood,

Thro' the wood, laffie;

O'er hillocks, o'er mountains, &c.

Since I have been abfent from thee, my dear Nell, No content, no delight have I known day or night; The murmuring ftream, and the hill's echo, tell How thro' the wood, laffie, I breath'd my fad knell. Thro' the wood, &c.

love:

And now to all forrow I'll bid full adieu, And, with joy, like a dove, I'll return to my The maxim of loving in truth let us know, Then thro' the wood, laffie, we'll bonnily go. Thro' &c.

Come lads, and come laffes, be blithsome and gay, Let your hearts merry be, and both full of glee: The Highlands shall reign with the joy of the day, When thro' the wood, happy, we'll dance, fing, and play. Thro' the wood, &c.

SONG XC.

Tune,—Highland Queen.

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Gently touch'd her hand, fhe gave
A look that did my foul enflave;
I prefs'd her rebel lips in vain,
They rofe up to be prefs'd again:
Thus happy I no further meant,
Than to be pleas'd and innocent.

On her foft breafts my hand I laid,
And a quick light impreffion made;
They with a kindly warmth did glow,
And fwell'd, and feem'd to overflow:
Yet, truft me, I no further meant,
Than to be pleas'd and innocent.

On her

eyes my eyes did

prey,

O'er her smooth limbs my hand did stray;
Each fenfe was ravish'd with delight,
y foul food prepar'd for flight:

Blame me not, if at laft I meant,
More to be pleas'd than innocent.

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LAMENT FOR GENERAL WOLFE.

RITONS, loyal and bold,

BR

Who would never be controul'd

By the French. See the braveft of his fex,
British Wolfe, ftout and good,
Made the rivers run with blood,

At the glorious conquest of Quebec.

Brave Wolfe was our commander, Montcalm was their defender, Their numbers did us forely dismay :

But brave Wolfe, ftout and bold,
He would never be controul'd,

And his last dying word was,-Huzza!

As

Contented I die,

you

Since

Since we've gain'd the victory,
tell me the battle is our own;
Let my foul depart in peace,
And the wars for ever cease,
my life for fair Britain is gone.

The Highlanders, in hot blood,
And failors, ftout and rude,
Like madmen did clash them away :
When the French began to run,
We advanced on their ground;
But our grief was for Wolfe-Oh that day!

Then the city it furrender'd,
The gates ftraight we enter'd;
Our ships in the harbour lay thick.
We thanked the Moft High
For this fignal victory,
At the glorious conqueft of Quebec.

IN

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N the dead of the night, when with labour opprefs'd, All mortals enjoy the calm bleffings of reft, Cupid knock'd at my door, I awoke with the noise, And who is it, I call'd, that my fleep thus deftroys?

You need not be frighten'd, he anfwer'd fo mild,
Let me in; I'm a little unfortunate child;
'Tis a dark rainy night; and I'm wet to the fkin;
And my way
I have loft, and do, pray, let me in.

I was mov'd with compaffion; and, ftriking a light, I open'd the door, when a boy ftood in fight,

Who had wings dropp'd,

on his fhoulders; the rain from him

With a bow and arrows too he was equipp❜d.

I ftirr'd

up my

fire, and close by its fide, I fet him down by me, with napkins I dry'd, I chaff'd him all over, kept out the cold air, And I wrung, with my hands, the wet out of his hair. He from wet and from cold was no fooner at ease, But taking up his bow, he faid, If you please We will try it; I wou'd by experiment know If the wet hath not damag'd the string of

my bow.

Forthwith from his quiver an arrow he drew, To the ftring he apply'd it, and twang went the yew;

The arrow was gone:

in my bofom it center'd, No fting of a hornet more sharp ever enter'd.

Away fkipp'd the urchin, as brifk as a bee, And laughing, I wish you much joy, friend, quoth he; But you will have trouble enough with My bow is undamag'd, for true went the dart; ‡......................................

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your heart.

XCIII.

THE HAPPY FREEDOM.

YOME all you young lovers, who, wan with despair,
Compofe idle fonnets, and figh for the fair,
Who puff up their pride by enhancing their charms,
And tell them, 'tis heav'n to lie in their arms:
Be wife, by example take pattern from me,
For let what will happen, by Jove I'll be free.
For let what will happen, &c.

Young Daphne I faw, in the net I was caught,
Ily'd and I flatter'd, as cuftom had taught:
I prefs'd her to blefs, which fhe granted full foon;

She vow'd she was ruin'd: I faid it might be :
I'm forry, my dear, but by Jove I'll be free, &c.

The next was young Phillis, as bright as the morn;
The love that I proffer'd fhe treated with fcorn.
I laugh'd at her folly, and told her my mind,
That none can be handsome, but such as are kind;
Her pride and ill-nature were loft upon me;
For in spite of fair faces, by Jove Ï'll be free, &c.

Let others call marriage the harbour of joys,
Calm peace I delight in, and fly from all noife;
Some chufe to be hamper'd, 'tis fure a strange rage,
Like birds they fing beft when put in a cage.
Confinement's the devil, 'twas ne'er made for me,
Let who will be bound flaves, by Jove I'll be free, &c.

Then let each brisk bumper run over the glass,
In a toast to the young and the beautiful lafs,
Whofe yielding and ease prescribes no dull rule,
Nor thinks it a wonder a lover fhould cool:
Let us bill like the fparrow, and rove like the bee,
For, in fpite of grave leffons, by Jove I'll be free, &c.

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WOW dare you, bold Strephon, prefume thus to prat,
And lafh the fair fex at this monftrous rate,

HOW

To boast of your freedom, fince not long ago

That

you were a flave to fair Chloe you know! When the next arrow comes, I wifh't be from me, Then I'd give you that anfwer, By Jove I'll be free.

You fay that young Daphne you brought to disgrace;
I thank my kind ftars, that is none of my cafe;
I'll take fpecial care, Sir, of yielding too foon,
Nor will I despair at the change of the moon;

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