XXXI. The Devonshire Nymph: Or The Knight's happy Choice. Shewing how a young rich Knight fell in Love with the Daughter of a poor Weaver of Devonshire, and for her Beauty and Virtue marry'd her. To the Tune of, Tender Hearts of London City. The many Beauties, as well as Scarcity of this Song, justly entitles it to a Place in this Collection; for having heard of it, I made it my Bulness to fearch the whole Town over for it, but all in vain, till meeting with a Gentlewoman who us'd to fing it, The favour'd me with a Copy of it. Its Beauties I will not pretend to point out; they are fo obvious, and indeed fo frequent, that we have not time to admire one, before another prefents itself to our Eyes; and I believe thofe who are acquainted with Nature and eafy Poetry, will acknowledge they have them here in their utmost Perfection. How However, I cannot forbear taking Notice of a beautiful Imitation of one of Martial's beft Epigrams, in the three first lines of the fecond Stanza: The Epigram is this: Quicquid agit Rufus, nihil eft, nifi Navia Rufo Si gaudet, fi flet, fi tacet, hanc loquitur: Cœnat, propinat, pofcit, negat, annuit, una est Navia: Si non fit Navia, mutus erit. Scriberet hefternâ Patri, cum luce falutem, Navia lux, inquit, Navia numen, ave. For the Benefit of my Female Readers, I fhall give a Tranflation of this Epigram by a famous modern Hand, or rather an Imitation of it, for it is impoffible to tranflate the Beauties of the fecond Line. Let Rufus weep, rejoice, ftand, fit or walk, Still he can nothing but of Navia talk: Let him eat, drink, ask Queftions, or difpute, Still he must talk of Navia, or be mute. He writ to's Father, ending with this Line, I am, my lovely Navia, ever thine. N the Weft of Devonshire, Liv'd a Maid of Beauty rare, Wherefoever I am walking, Pretty Peggy must come in, She has fo much Duty, and fo much Beauty, Not to worship were a Sin. Fame Fame that oftentimes doth flatter, Strait in Love he was involved, Whether Peggy would be kind Such a Face, and such a Mind. When he first beheld the Creature, When she saw him the retired, At the little Interview: Oh! ftay, he said, thou lovely Maid, Straitway then he did pursue her, Golden Promises he made her, And with Vows he did perfwade her, Dearest Charmer be not cruel, Leave your homely rural Sport, And be but mine, and thou shalt shine All |