XXV. Tune, Gilderoj.
AH! Chloris, coul'd I now but fit
As unconcern'd, as when
Your infant beauty cou'd be get
No happiness nor pain.
When I this dawning did admire,
And praif'd the coming day,
I little thought that rifing fire
Would take my reft away.
Your charms in harmless childhood lay, !
As metals in a mine.
Age from no face takes more away
Than youth conceal'd in thines
But as your charms infenfibly
To their perfections preft,
So love as unperceiv'd did fly,
And center'd in my breast.
My paffion with your beauty grew,
While Cupid at my heart,
Still as his mother favour'd youj
Threw a new flaming datt,
Each gloried in their wanton part;
To make a lover, he
Employ'd the utmost of his art:
To make a beauty, she,
XXVI. Joy to Great CESAR.
Jox
J Long life, love, and pleasure,
'Tis a health that divine is ;'
Fill your glafs full as mine is
Let none fear a fever,
But take it off thus, boys; "Let the king live for ever 'Tis the better for us, boys, Try all the loyal,
Defy all, give denial.
Sure none thinks his glafs too big here,
Nor any prig here,
Or fneaking Whig here
Of cripple Tony's crew,
That now looks blue,
His heart akes too,
And projects new,
Ill fate does now purfue,
Let Tories guard the king,
Let Whigs in halter fwing,
Let Pilk and Shute be hamm'd:
Let bugg'ring Oates be damn'd;
Let cheating play'rs be nick'd,... Î
The turn-coat fcribe be kick'd,
Let rabel city dons
Ne'er beget their fons;
Let every Whiggish peer
That rapes a lady fair,
And leaves his only dear
The fheets to gnaw and tear,
Be punish'd out of hand,
And forc'd to pawn his land,
T'atone the grand affair.
Great Charles, like Jehovah,
Spares foes would unking him,
And warms with his
The vipers that sting him ; Till crown'd with just anger
The rebel he feizes;
Thus heaven can thunder
Whenever it pleases.
Then to the duke fill up the glafs,
The fon of our mytyr, belov'd of the king:
Envy'd and lov'd,
Yet blefs'd from above,
Secur'd by an angel fafe under his wing,
Faction and folly,
And ftate malancholy,
With Tony in Whigland for ever fhall dwell Let wit, wine, and beauty
Then teach us our duty,
For none can e'er love, or be wife, and rebel.
I'LL range around the fhady bowers,
And gather all the sweetest flow'rs;
I'll ftrip the garden and the grove,
To make a garland for my love.
When in the fultry heat of day
My thirsty nymph does panting ly,
I'll haften to the fountain's brink,
And drain the stream that the may drink.
At night when the fhall weary prove,
A graffy bed I'll make my love,
And with green boughs I'll form a fhade,
That nothing may her reft invade.
And whilft diffolv'd in fleep fhe lies,
Myfelf fhall never clofe thefe eyes;
But gazing ftill, with fond delight,
I'll watch my charmer all the night..
And then as foon as chearful day verb.
Difpels the gloomy fhades away,
Forth to the foreft I'll repair,
And find provifion for my fair..
Thus will I fpend the day and night,
Still mixing labour with delight,
Regarding nothing I endure,
So I can eafe for her procure.com
But if the maid, whom thus I love;
Sould e'er unkind and faithlefs prove,
I'll feek fome difmal distant shore,
And never think of woman more.
LIFE is chequer'dtoil and pleafure
Fill up all the various meafure;
See the crew in flannel jerkins,
Drinking toping flip by firkins;
And as they raise the tip
To their happy lip,
On the deck is heard no other found,
But prithee Jack, prithee Dick,
Prithee Sam, prithee Tom,
Let the cann go round.
CHORUS.
Then hark to the boatfwain's whistle, whistle, Then hark to the boatfwain's whistle, whiftle Buftie, bustle, my boys,
Let us ftir, let us toil,
But let's drink all the while,
For labour's the price of our joys,
For labour's, &c.
Life is chequer'd-toil and pleafure
Fill up all the various meafure:
Hark the crew, with fun-burnt faces,
Chanting black eye'd Sufan's graces.
S. And as they raise their notes
Through their rusty throats,
Life is chequer'd toil and pleasure
Fill up all the various measure ;
Hark the crew, their cares difcarding,
With huflecap, or with chuck-farthing
S. Still in merry pin,
Let 'em lofe or win,
On the deck, &c.
XXIX. The charms of lovely PEGGY
NCE more I'll tune the vocal fhell,
To hills and dales my paffion tell,
A flame which time can never quell,
That burns for thee, my Peggy.
Yet greater bards the lyre fhould hit ;
For pray what fubject is more fit,
Than to record the fparkling wit
And bloom of lovely Peggy?
The fun juft rifing in the morn,
That paints the dew befpangl'd thorn,
Does not fo much the day adorn
As does my lovely Peggy.
And when, in Thetis' lap to rest,
He ftreaks with gold the ruddy Weft.
He's not fo beauteous as, undrelt,
Appears my lovely Peggy.
Were the array'd in ruftic weed,
With her the bleeting flocks I'd feed,
And pipe upon my oaten reed,
To please my lovely Peggy.
With her a cottage would delight,
All pleases while fhe's in my fight;
But when fhe's gone, 'tis endless night;
All's dark without my Peggy.
When zephyrs on the vi'let blows,
Or breathes upon the damaík rose,
They do not half the fweets disclose,
As does my lovely Peggy.
I ftole a kifs the other day,
And, truft me, nought but truth I fay,
The fragrant breath of blooming May
Was not fo fweet as Peggy.
While bees from flow'r to flow'r do rove,
And linnets warble through the grove,"
Or stately swans the waters love,
So long fhall I love Peggy.
And when death, with his pointed dart, Shall ftrike the blow that wounds my heart, My words fhall be, when I depart,
Adieu, my lovely Peggy.
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