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And thence, if courage holds, myfelf I'll throw, And quench my paflion in the lake below.

Ye laffes, eafe your burthen, ceafe to moan, And, by my cafe forewarn'd, go mind your own. The fun was fet; the night came on a-pace, And falling dews bewet around the place; The bat takes airy rounds on leathern wings, And the hoarse owl his woeful dirges fings; The prudent maiden deems it now too late, And, till to-morrow comes, defers her fate.

THURSDAY;

THURSDAY;

O R,

THE SPELL.

HOBNELIA,

OBNELIA, feated in a dreary vale,

In penfive mood rehears'd her piteous tale; Her piteous tale the winds in fighs bemoan, And pining eccho anfwers groan for groan. I rue the day, a rueful day I trow; The woful day; a day, indeed, of woe! When Lubberkin to town his cattle drove, A maiden fine bedight he happ'd to love; The maiden fine bedight his love retains, And for the village he forfakes the plains. Return, my Lubberkin, thefe ditties hear; Spells will I try, and fpells fhall ease my care. With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around. When firft the year, I heard the cuckow fing, And call with welcome note the budding fpring, I ftraitway fet a running with fuch hafte,

Deb'rah, that won the fmock, fcarce ran fo falt. 'Till spent for lack of breath, quite weary grown, Upon a rifing bank I fat adown,

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Then doff'd my fhoe, and, by my troth, I swear,
Therein I spy'd this yellow frizled hair,
As like to Lubberkin's in curl and hue,
As if upon his comely pate it grew.

With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground,
And turn me thrice around, around, around.
At eve last midfummer no sleep I fought,
But to the field a bag of hemp-feed brought,
I fcattered round the feed on every fide,
And three times, in a trembling accent, cry'd,
"This hemp-feed with my virgin hand I fow,
"Who shall my true-love be, the crop fhall mow."
I ftrait look'd back, and, if my eyes speak truth,
With his keen fcythe behind me came the youth.

With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around.

Laft Valentine, the day when birds of kind Their paramours with mutual chirpings find; I rearly rofe, juft at the break of day, Before the fun had chas'd the stars away; A-field I went, amid the morning dew, To milk my kine (for so should huswives do) Thee first I spy'd; and the first swain we see, In fpite of fortune, fhall our true-love be; See, Lubberkin, each bird his partner take; And canft thou, then, thy fweetheart dear forfake? With my fharp heel I three times mark the ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around. Laft May-day fair I fearch'd to find a fnail That might my fecret lover's name reveal;

Upon

Upon a gooseberry bufh a fnail I found,
For, always, fnails near sweetest fruit abound.
I feiz'd the vermin, home I quickly fped,
And on the hearth the milk-white embers spread.
Slow crawl'd the fnail, and, if I right can spell,
In the foft afhes mark'd a curious L:

Oh, may this wond'rous omen lucky prove!
For L is found in Lubberkin and Love.

With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground,
And turn me thrice around, aronnd, around.
Two hazle nuts I threw into the flame,
And to each nut I gave a fweet-heart's name.
This with the loudest bounce me fore amaz'd,
That in a flame of brighteft colour blaz’d.
As blaz'd the nut fo may thy paffion grow;
For 'twas thy nut that did fo brightly glow.
With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground,
And turn me thrice around, around, around.

As peafcods once I pluck'd, I chanc'd to fee
One that was closely fill'd with three times three,
Which when I cropp'd I fafely home convey'd,
And o'er the door the fpell in fecret laid;
My wheel I turn'd, and sung a ballad new,
While from the spindle I the fleeces drew;

The latch mov'd up, when who should first come in,
But, in his
proper person,- -Lubberkin.

I broke my yarn, furpris'd the fight to fee;

Sure fign that he would break his word with me. Eftfoons I join'd it with my wonted flight;

So may again his love with mine unite!

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With my fharp heel I three times mark the ground, And tun me thrice around, around, around. This Lady-fly I take from off the grafs,

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ofe fpotted back might scarlet red furpafs. Fly. Lady-bird, north, fouth, or eaft or weft, Fly where the man is found that I love beft." He leaves my hand! fee, to the west he's flown, To call my true-love from the faithless town.

With my fharp heel I three times mark the ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around.

I pare this pippin round and round again, My fhepherd's name to flourish on the plain. I fling th' unbroken paring o'er my head, Upon the grafs a perfect L is read;

Yet on my heart a fairer L is feen

Than what the paring marks upon the green.

With my fharp heel I three times mark the ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around.

This pippin fhall another tryal make;

See from the core two kernels brown I take;
This on my check for Lubberkin is worn,
And Boobyclod on t'other fide is born.
But Boobyclod foon drops upon the ground,
A certain token that his love's unfound,
While Lubberkin flicks firmly to the laft;
Oh were his lips to mine but join'd so fast!
With my fharp heel I three times mark the ground,
And turn me thrice around, around, around.
As Lubberkin once slept beneath a tree,
I twitch'd his dangling garter from his knee;

He

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