Believe me, I'll banish thy fears,
Dear maid, by the light of the moon.
Our loves when the fhepherds fhall view.
To us they their pipes fhall tune :
While we our foft pleasures renew
Each night by the light of the moon..
SINCE artifts, who fue for the trophies of fame,
Their wit and their taste and their genius proclaim;
Attend to my fong, and you'll certainly find,
A fecret difclos'd for the good of mankind ;.
And deny it who can, fure. the laurel's my due,
I've found out a padlock to keep a wife.true..
Should the amorous goddefs prefide o'er your
dame,
With the ardours of youth, all her paffions inflame;
Should her beauty lead captive each fofter defire,
And languishing lovers ftill figh and admire ;.
Yet fearless you'll truft her tho' thousands may fue,
When I tell you my padlock to keep a wife true.
Though the husband may think that he wifely
restrains,
With his bars and his bolts, his confineraents and
How fatally weak muft each artifice prove!
Can fetters of teel bind like fetters of love?
Thro' jealoufy henee bid fufpicion adieu,
Reftraint's not the padlock to keep a wife true:
Should her fancy incline to the park or the play, All complying and kind you should give her her
While her tafte and her judgment you fondly approve,
'Tis reason secures you the treasure of love ;
And believe me no coxcomb admiffion can find,
For the fair one is fafe if you padlock her mind.
Tho' hervirtues with foibles may frequently blend,
Let the husband be loft in the lover and friend;
Let doubts and furmifes no longer perplex,
'Tis the charm of indulgence that binds the fair
They ne'er can prove falfe while this maxim's in view,
Good humour's the padlock that keeps a wife true.
Y goddefs, Lydia, heavenly fair,
As lily fweet, as soft as air,
Let loose thy treffes, fpread thy charms,
And to my love give frefh alarms.
O! let me gaze on these bright eyes, Though facred light'ning from him flies; Shew me that foft, that modett grace, Which paints with charming red thy face.
Give me ambrofia in a kifs,
That I may rival Jove in blifs
That I may mix my foul with thine,
And make the pleasure all divine.
O hide thy bofom's killing white,
(The milky way is not fo bright)
Left you my ravifh'd foul opprefs
With beauty's pomp and fweet excefs.
Why draw't thou, from the purple flood
Of my kind heart, the vital blood?
Thou art all over endless charms;
O take me dying to thy arms.
Sung in Love IN A VILLAGE.
STILL in hopes to get the better
Of my ftubborn flame I try; Swear this moment to forget her, And the next my oath deny.
Now prepar'd with scorn to treat her,
Ev'ry charm in thought I brave;
Then, relapfing, fly to meet her,
And confefs myself her flave.
NATURE'S HOLY DAY.
THE fun in virgin luftre shone,
May morning put its beauties on,
The warblers fung in livelier ftrains,
And fweeter flow'rets deck'd the plains;
When Love, that foft intruding guest,
That long had dwelt in Damon's breast,
Now whifper'd to the nymph, Away,
For this is Nature's Holy-day.
The tender impulse wing'd his haste,
The painted mead he inftant pass'd,
And foon the happy cot he gain'd,
Where beauty slept and filence reign'd;
Awake, my fair, the fhepherd eries,
To new-born pleasure ope' thine eyes;
Arife, my Sylvia, hail the May,
For this is Nature's Holy Day..
OSCAR'S GHOST.-Tune, RoSLIN CASTLE.
O! SEE that form that faintly gleams,
It's Ofcar come to chear my dreams,
On wings of wind he flies away;
O! ftay, my lovely Ofcar, ftay.
'Wake Offian, laft of Fingal's line;
And mix thy tears and fighs with mine:
Awake the harp to doleful lays,
And footh my foul with Ofcar's praise.
GALLANT SAILOR
GALLANT failor, oft' you told me
That you'd never leave your love; To your vows I now muft hold you, Now's the time your love to prove.
Is not Britain's flag degraded?
Have not Frenchmen brav'd our fleet?
Can a failor live upbraided,
When the French have dar'd to meet ?
Hear me, gallant failor, hear me,
While your country has a foe,
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