II. Silvia, for all the griefs you see I beg not that you'd pity me, Hunting Song, going out. I. HARK! away, 'tis the merry ton'd horn Calls the hunters all up with the morn; To the hills and the woodlands they steer, To unharbour the out-lying deer. CHORUS of Huntsmen. All the day long, This, this is our fong, Still hallooing, And following, So frolic and free; Our joys know no bounds, While we're after the hounds, No mortals on earth are fo jolly as we. II. Round the woods when we beat, how we glow, While the hills they all echo hillo; With a bounce from his cover when he flies, Then our shouts they refound to the skies. All the day, &c. III. When we sweep o'er the valleys, or climb The Return from the Chace. I. HE sweet rofy morn peeps over the hills, THE With blushes adorning the meadows and fields; The merry, merry, merry horn calls, Come, come away, Awake from your flumbers, and hail the new day. The merry, &c. II. The stag rous'd before us, away feems to fly, III. The day's fport when over makes blood circle right, And gives the brisk lover fresh charms for the night; Then let us, let us now enjoy all we can while we may, Let love crown the night, as our sports crown the day. Then let us, &c. The Girl that's blythe and gay. Tune-Black Jock. F all the girls in our town, OF Or black, or yellow, or fair, or brown, As warm as June and as sweet as May, With her heart free, and faithful as light. What lovely couple then cou'd be So happy and so bless'd as we ! On whom the sweetest joys would smile, Entranc'd in blifs each rapt'rous night. CY Cynthia's Perplexity. I. YNTHIA frowns whene'er I woo her, Much fhe fears I should undo her, Thus in doubting she refuses, II. Prithee, Cynthia, look behind you, Nought but Love. I. HE fun was funk beneath the hill, THE The western clouds were lin'd with gold, The sky was clear, the winds were still, The flocks were pent within the fold; When from the silence of the grove, Poor Damon thus despair'd of love! II. Who feeks to pluck the fragrant rose From the bare rock, or oozy beach; III. I have no herds, no fleecy care, No fields that wave with golden grain, No pastures green, nor gardens fair, A maiden's venal heart to gain : Then all in vain my fighs must prove, For I, alas! have nought but love. IV. How wretched is the faithful youth, Since women's hearts are bought and fold! They ask not vows of sacred truth, Whene'er they figh, they figh for gold. Gold can the frowns of fcorn remove, But I, alas! have nought but love. V. To buy the gems of India's coast, What wealth, what treasure can fuffice? Not all their fhine can ever boast The living luftre of her eyes: For these the world too cheap would prove; But I, alas! have nought but love. VI. O Silvia! fince nor gems, nor ore, Can with your brighter gems compare, More feldom found, a foul fincere : Tell me, my Heart. I. WHEN Delia on the plain appears, Aw'd by a thousand tender fears, I would approach, but dare not move : Tell me, my heart, if this be love? II. Whene'er she speaks, my ravish'd ear III. If the fome other fwain commend, IV. When she is abfent, I no more |