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My Dog I was ever well pleased to see
When walking with PHE BE, what Sights have I seen? How fair was the Flow'r, how fresh was the Green? What a lovely Appearance the Trees and the Shade, The Corn-Fields and Hedges, and ev'ry Thing made? But now she has left me, tho' all are still there, They none of 'em now so delightful appear : 'Twas nought but the Magick, I find, of her Eyes, Made so many beautiful Prospects arise.
Sweet Musick went with us both all the Wood thro', The Lark, Linnet, Throftle, and Nightingale too;
Winds over us whisperd, Flocks by us did bleat,
Rose, what is become of thy delicate Hue?
your selves fine for; a Place in her Breast:
How Nowly Time creeps, till my PHEBE return?
Ah, COLIN! old TIM E is full of Delay,
Will no pitying Pow'r, that hears me complain, Or cure my Disquiet, or soften my Pain? To be cur’d, thou must, COLIN, thy Passion remove, But what Swain is so silly to live without Love; No, Deity, bid the dear Nymph to return, For ne'er was poor Shepherd fo sad, so forlorn.. Ah! what shall I do? I shall die with Despair, . Take heed, all ye Swains, how ye love one fo Fair.
SHUFF of Newbury.
BALL A D.
To the Tune of, Chevy Chase.
There liy'd and dy'd a Blockhead;
If he had not been choaked.
The Ancient Borough callid him SHUFF,
Of State not yery thriving,
Since the same Thing which made him die,
Is that which keeps us l'iving.
He Custard on a Wager eat,
And so did cram his Weazand, That tho' he put it in, he could
Not pluck it out out with his Hand.
Innocent Meat did fatal prove,
Eat ready without Knife,
And Custard stroye with Life,
But as he saw the Enemy,
Was like to stop his Breath, He manfully gave up the Ghost,
And dying, eat his Death.
As Scavola more Credit got,
'Cause his bold Hand did miss;