'Tis fomething than friendship more sweet, More paffionate even than love.

For ever when absent from you,
Pale echo returns my fond fighs;
But when happ'ly your beauties I view,
On my lips the faint utt'rance dies.

This the fecret I had to betray,

And the fate of my paffion is fuch; That in what I was prompted to say, Methinks I have utter'd too much.

SONG 7.

How imperfect is expreffion,

Some emotions to impart ; When we mean a foft confeffion,

And yet feek to hide the heart : When our bofoms all complaining With delicious tumults fwell, Speak what trembling, fault'ring, dying; Language would, but cannot tell.

Deep confufion's rofy terror

Quite expreffive paints my check; Afk no more, behold your error, Blushes eloquently fpeak:

What though filent is my anguifh,
Or breath'd only to the air;
Mark my eyes, and as they languif,AND
Read what your's have written there.

Ah! that you could once conceive me,
Once my foul's ftrong feelings view;
Love has nought more fweet, believe me;
Friendship nothing half fo true;
From you I am wild, defpairing;
With you, fpeechlefs as I touch;
This is all that bears declaring,
And perhaps declares too much.

SONG 8.

By Mr W. C. to a young Lady.

THE Cyprian queen when fam'd Appelles drew,

He had each beauty of his age in view;
Before him all the fair creation rofe,

While from each nymph each various charm he chofe.

From this he ftole the mildness of her eyes,

From that her lips in imitative dyes;
From one her bloom, another's golden hair,

'Till the whole portrait rofe divinely fair.

But had he liv'd to fee your angel face,

From y'd borrow'd ev'ry lovely grace;
No other before his eyes he'd fet,

But take each charm from much lov'd Ht.

Yet though affifted by a hand divine,

Each colour glow'd, and ev'ry ftroke was fine; Yet though he fummon'd all the pow'rs of paint, The world, álas! would own the likeness faint.

SONG 9.

THE JUDICIOUS CHOICE.

A BEAUTIFUL face and a form without fault,

Are not the attractions by which I am caught; Good nature, good sense, and an honeft free mind, Are perfections in woman to which I'm inclin'd.

For a time beauty charms, but fo certain is age, That who with a beauty alone would engage? Since time spreads a veil o'er the brightest of eyes, And a face is a flow'r that bloffoms and dies.

Then, Venus, begone with your artful decoys, Which like fyrens do tempt, and like fyrens deftroy;

'Tis friendship and virtue I feek in a wife,

Whom I'd love and carefs ev'ry day of my life.

SONG 10.

To the Tune of, THE HIGHLAND LADDIE.

AMELIA, fhe's fo wond'rous fair,

That you'd not ken her frae a lady;
Comely and gracefu' is her air;

But, ah! he can't win frae her daddie.
O! my lovely, charming lafie,
My dear, angelic, handfome laffie,
Tho' now confin'd frae me fhe's kept,
Yet ftill I'll love my Lawhand laffie.

Whene'er I fee her fmiling face,

My heart does pant with joy and pleasure; But, when she's abfent frae the place,

O! I am grieved out of measure.

O! my lovely, &c.

She is poffefs'd of many charms,

Which quite enchant her faithfu' laddie ;

O! if I had her in my arms

I wou'd e'en keep her frae her daddie.

To happiness I'll bid adieu,

Of my lovely, &c.

'Till fhe arrives into AULD REEKY; For there's nae ither nymph I loo' Like my fweet Amelia M--y.

O! my lovely, &c.

SONG 11.

THE BRITISH FAIR.

PHOEBUS, meaner themes difdaining,
To the lyrift's call repair;
And the ftrings to rapture ftraining,
Come and praife the British Fair.

Chiefs, throughout the land victorious,
Born to conquer and to spare,
Were not gallant, were not glorious,
'Till commanded by the Fair.

All the works of worth and merit,
Which the Sons of Art prepare,
Have no pleasure, life, or spirit,
But as borrow'd from the Fair.

Reason is as weak as paffion;
But, if you for truth declare,
Worth and manhood are the fashion,
Favour'd by the British Fair.

SONG 12.

JOHNNY AND MARY.

DOWN the burn and thro' the mead, His golden locks wav'd o'er his brow;