Lord HENRY and KATHARINE. IN I. ancient times, in Britain's isle, Lord Henry well was known, His thoughts on honour always run, No nymph in all the land had charms II. Amongst the nymphs where Kath'rine came, The fairest face she shows, She was as bright as morning-fun, And sweeter than a rose: III. But foon her eyes their luftre loft, IV. Once in a dream fhe cry'd aloud, Thy love must ne'er be known! Such is the fate of womankind, They must the truth conceal, V. A tender friend that watch'd the fair To Henry hy'd away. My Lord, fays fhe, we've found the cause Of Kath'rine's quick decay: She in a dream the fecret told, Till now no mortal knew: Alas! fhe now expiring lies, And dies for love of you! VI. : The gen'rous Henry's foul was touch'd, His heart began to flame, Ah, poor unhappy maid! he cry'd, Yet I am not to blame. Ah Kath'rine! too too modest maid, I'll ease your pain: and swift as wind VII. Awake! awake! he fondly cry'd, I come to fave thee from despair, VIII. These words reviv'd the dying fair, Around his neck her arms fhe flung, In ecstasy, and cried, Will you be kind? Will you indeed? The Milking-pail. I. YE nymphs and filvan gods, That love green fields and woods, When spring newly born herself does adorn Come fing in the praise, while flocks do graze Of those that chose to milk their ewes, II. You goddess of the morn, And take the fresh air, whilst linnets prepare The blackbird and thrush, on every bush, In merry vein, their throats do strain, To entertain the jolly train Of those of the milking-pail. III. When cold bleak winds do roar, And flowers will spring no more, The fields that were seen so pleasant and green, With winter's all candied o'er. See how the town-lass looks with her white face, And her lips fo deadly pale? But it is not fo with those that go Thro' froft and fnow, with cheeks that glow, IV. The miss of courtly mold, Adorn'd with pearl and gold, With washes and paint her skin does so taint, While the of commode puts on a cart-load, What joys are found in rushy ground, Young, plump and round, nay, sweet and found, Of those of the milking-pail. V. You girls of Venus game, That venture health and fame, In practising feats, with cold and heats, What store of beaux would daub their cloaths, Who carry the milking-pail? VI. The country-lad is free Whilft upon the green he is often seen With kisses most sweet he doth her so treat, But the London-lafs, in every place, PHILLIS, defpise not. I. PHILLIS, defpife not your faithful lover, Play not the tyrant, because you are fair; Beauty will fade, my charming maid, Juft as the lily, my beautiful Philly, Cease to prove coy, smile on the boy, Grant him the bleffing he longs to enjoy. II. Crowns are but trifles, compar'd with my Philly: Who can behold her, and not be enflav'd? Angel divine! wert thou but mine; Pity my story, I laugh at all glory, Here I proteft, on thy dear breast, With thee in a cottage I'd think myself bleft. Drink while ye can. I. LET's drink, my friends, while here we live, The fleeting moments as they pass This filent admonition give, T'improve our time, and push the glass. II. When once we've ent'red Charon's boat, There's not a drop to weet our throat, |