For fure you'll find them all fincere, If you'll but kind and constant prove; O! hold your foolish tongue, That conftancy would win a maid? The greatest men alive Have been by Cupid's pow'r o'ercome; 'Tis in vain with love to ftrive, Though arm'd with fword, and fpear, and gun. Then ground your arms, Sons of War, SONG 3. WHILE yet as a cowan I wander'd the plain, I thought to be a mafon again and again, I thithier repair'd, being refolv'd in my mind, When to my furprise a good friend I did find, And hade me prepare, for fo hearty I'd feel; What fill was now ftrange when I thought on the Deil. thought on the Deil, &c.. We knock'd, but was ftopp'd; when we enter'd the door, They faid, Who bring you here whom we ne'er faw before; I told them I thought to be admitted fu' weil, As I freely, came here to fhake hands wi' the Deil. Shake hands wi' the Deil, &c. By leave from the chair then admittance we found, But like one that's blind I gropp'd all the way round; "Till fomething I felt made me ftagger and reel, Which rais'd my old thought, I'd meet wi' the Deil. meet with the Deil, &c. At laft to my joy. I found all things go right, And began by degrees to difcover the light; The mafter advis'd me to fwallow a pill, Which he faid would purge me from all fears of the Deil. fears of the Deil, &e. By leave from the chair I did join the glad throng, And partook of their joys o'er a glafs and a fong, Ye-cowans, remember the mafons are leel, And beware of yourfelves when you speak of the Deil.. Speak of the Deil, &c. SONG 4. To the tune of, I told my nymph, I told her true. A DIEU! DIEU! ye native fields and bow'rs! Ye dear companions of my youth! (No cares, did then my blifs annoy.) Farewell!-and, O! may happy days, And thou, Philander! chofen friend, That Heav'n from ev'ry ill defend Yet, yet Philander! yet a figh; A peufive figh ftill heaves my breaft; When I recal thofe happy hours reft. With thee, my friend, in wanton play, Amid yon green-lin❜d leafy bow'rs; How lightly flew thofe hours away! Or at the foot of yonder hill, Where falls the rufhing ftream fo faft; And here, where fweetly glides the rill, With how much joy our time we past! The dear delufion wou'd not laft; Cou'd I forget but time that's paft, Adieu! ye feats of pure delight! པ་་་་་ ར. SONG 5. A SHAPE alone let others prize The features of the Fair; I look for fpirit in her eyes, A damask'd cheek, an iv'ry arm, Give me an animated form That speaks a mind within. A face where awful honour fhines, The tendernefs of love: Thefe are the force of beauty's charms, And all her rofes dead. But ah where both thefe two-unite How perfect is the view, With pow'r to footh the greatest grief Their pow'r but faintly to exprefs, But SONG 6. COULD ye guefs,-for I ill can repeat, The fenfation I am deftin'd to prove; |