What strains, Oh! goddess, must he find, To melt her frozen heart, Since words can ne'er exprefs his mind, In vain will prove his artless praise Her cheek with rofe and lilies vies, The fparkling di'monds fhine: In vain they ftrive to raise their throats Like Patty's of the hill. How fhall I paint her tender mind,. In her is ev'ry virtue join'd, She ftoops to reafon's will; SONG 24. DOWN THE BURN DAVIE, LOVE. WHEN trees did bud, and fields were green, And broom bloom'd fair to fee; And I'll foon follow thee. Now Davie did each lad furpafs That dwelt on this burn- fide; And Mary was the bonieft lafs, Juft meet to be a bride. Blyth Davie's blinks, &c. Her cheeks were rofy, red and white, Her looks were like Aurora bright, Her lips like dropping dew. Blyth Davie's blinks, &c. As Fate had dealt to him a routh, Down the burn Davie, love, And I'll foon follow thee; Gang down the burn Davie, love, SONG 25. Sung in the DUENNA. HAD I a heart for falfhood fram'd, I ne'er could injure you: For tho' your tongue no promife claim'd, No ftranger offer wrong; But friends in all the ag'd you'll meet, And lovers in the young. But when they learnt that you have bleft They'll bid afpiring paffion reft, And act a brother's part. Then lady, dread not here deceit, Nor fear to fuffer wrong : For friends in all the ag'd you'll meet, SONG 26. GROG.-TUNE, Why Should we quarrel for Riches. YE jolly true blues on the main, The delight of each bold British tar, And foftens the hardships of war. Brave Vernon, to Britain ftill dear, O long may'ft-thou live, though IN COG, Some deity whifper'd thine ear, And hinted the liquor call'd Grog. For Grog, &c. Of vineyards the Monfieurs may boast, I heard an Hibernian declare For Grog, &c. By St Patrick, tho' born in a bog, That while he could fee with one ear, No liquor he'd drink except Grog. No danger our hearts can dismay, For what is a dozen a day, To a double allowance of Grog. For Grog, &c. For Grog, &c. Each Saturday night that revolves, Now war is declar'd let's advance, For Grog, &c. May the flincher be hang'd like a dog ; Is a ftranger to freedom and Grog. It banishes forrow and ftrife, And foftens the hardships of war. |