AN

ELEGY ON A LAP-DO.G.

HOCK'S fate I mourn; poor Shock is now no more;

SHOCK'S

Ye Mufes, mourn; ye chamber-maids, deplore.
Unhappy Shock! yet more unhappy Fair,
Doom'd to furvive thy joy and only care!

Thy wretched fingers now no more shall deck,
And tie the favourite ribband round his neck;
No more thy hand shall smooth his gloffy hair,
And comb the wavings of his pendent ear.
Yet ceafe thy flowing grief, forfaken maid;
All mortal pleasures in a moment fade;
Our fureft hope is in an hour destroy'd;
And love, beft gift of Heaven, not long enjoy'd.
Methinks I fee her frantic with defpair,

Her ftreaming eyes, wrung hands, and flowing hair;
Her Mechlin pinners, rent, the floor beftrow,

And her torn fan gives real figns of woe.
Hence Superftition, that tormenting guest,

That haunts with fancy'd fears the coward breaft;
No dread events upon this fate attend,

Stream eyes no more, no more thy treffes rend.
Though certain omens oft' forewarn a state,
And dying lions how the monarch's fate;
Why should fuch fears bid Cælia's forrow rife?
For, when a Lap-dog, falls no lover dies.

Ceafe, Celia, cease; restrain thy flowing tears,
Some warmer paffion will difpel thy cares.
In man you'll find a more substantial bliss,
More grateful toying, and a sweeter kifs.

He's dead. Oh lay him gently in the ground! And may his tomb be by this verse renown'd: "Here Shock, the pride of all his kind, is laid; "Who fawn'd like man, but ne'er like man betray'd."

SONGS

SONGS AND BALLADS.

SWEET WILLIAM'S FAREWELL
TO BLACK-EYED SUSAN.

ALL in the Downs the fleet was moor'd,

The ftreamers waving in the wind,

When black-ey'd Sufan came aboard.

Oh where fhall I my true-love find?
Tell me, ye jovial failors, tell me true,
If my fweet William fails among the crew.

William, who high upon the yard
Rock'd with the billow to and fro,
Soon as her well-known voice he heard,
He figh'd, and caft his eyes below:

The cord flides fwiftly through his glowing hands,
And (quick as lightning) on the deck he stands.

So the fweet lark, high-pois'd in air,

Shuts close his pinions to his breast
(If, chance, his mate's fhrill call he hear),
And drops at once into her neft.

The nobleft Captain in the British fleet
Might envy William's lip thofe kiffes sweet.

VOL. I.

S

O Sufan,

O Sufan, Sufan, lovely dear,

My vows fhall ever true remain ;
Let me kifs off that falling tear;

We only part to meet again..
Change, as ye lift, ye winds; my heart fhall be
The faithful compass that still points to thee.
Believe not what the landmen say,

Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind.
They'll tell thee, failors, when away,
In every port a mistress find:

Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee fo,
For thou art prefent wherefoe'er I go.

If to fair India's coaft we fail,

Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright,
Thy breath is Africk's fpicy gale,
Thy fkin is ivory fo white.

Thus every beauteous object that I view,
Wakes in

my foul fome charm of lovely Sue.
Though battle call me from thy arms,
Let not my pretty Sufan mourn;
Though cannons roar, yet, fafe from harms,
William fhall to his Dear return.

Love turns afide the balls that round me fly,
Left precious tears fhould drop from Susan's eye.
The boatswain gave the dreadful word,

The fails their fwelling bofom spread;
No longer must she stay aboard:

They kifs'd, the figh'd, he hung his head.
Her leffening boat unwilling rows to land :
Beu! fhe cries; and wav'd her lily hand.

A BAL

A BALLAD,

FROM THE WHAT-D'YE-CALL-IT.

"TWAS when the feas were roaring With hollow blafts of wind;

A damfel lay deploring,

All on a rock reclin'd.

Wide o'er the foaming billows

She caft a wistful look ;

Her head was crown'd with willows,
That trembled o'er the brook.

Twelve months are gone and over,
And nine long tedious days.
Why didft thou, venturous lover,
Why didst thou truft the feas?
Ceafe, ceafe, thou cruel Ocean,
And let my lover rest:
Ah! what's thy troubled motion
To that within my breaft?

The merchant, robb'd of pleasure,
Sees tempefte in defpair;
But what's the lofs of treasure,
To lofing of my dear?

Should you fome coaft be laid on,
Where gold and diamonds grow,
You'd find a richer maiden,

But none that loves you fo.