Whilft knaves and fools
Prescribe us rules,

We are fincere and hearty.

Fill to him, &c.

III.

If any are fo foolish

To whine for courtiers' favour,

We'll bind him o'er

To drink no more,

Till he has a better favour.

Fill to him, &c.

IV.

If an accepted mason

Should talk of high or low church, We'll fet him down

A fhallow crown,

And understanding no church.

Fill to him, &c.

V.

The world is all in darkness ;
About us they conjecture;
But little think

A fong in drink

Succeeds the mason's lecture.

Fill to him, &c.

VI.

Then, landlord, bring a hogfhead,
And in the corner place it;
Till it rebound

With hollow found,

Each mafon here fhall face it.

Fill to him, &c.

The Frugal Maid.

I.

I AM a poor maiden forfaken,

Yet I bear a contented mind

I am a poor maiden forsaken,

d;

Yet I'll find another more kind :

For altho' I be forfaken,

Yet this I would have you to know,

I ne'er was fo ill provided,

But I'd two'r three strings to my bow.

II.

I own that once I lov'd him,

But his fcorn I cou'd never endure; Nor yet to that height of perfection, For his flights to love him the more. I own he was very engaging,

Yet this I would have you to know,

I ne'er was fo ill provided,

But I'd two'r three ftrings to my bow.

III.

Ye maidens who hear of my ditty,

And are unto loving inclin'd,

Men's minds they are fubject to changing,

And wavering like the wind;

Each object creates a new fancy :

Then this I would have you to do ; Be easy and free, and take pattern by me, And keep two'r three ftrings to your bow.

DAMON'S Picture of CELIA.

Tune-Down the burn, Davie.

I.

ASSIST your vot'ry, friendly Nine,

Inspire becoming lays;

Caufe Celia's matchlefs beauty shine,

Till heaven and earth fhall blaze. She's pleasant as returning light, Sweet as the morning-ray,

When Phoebus quells the fhades of night, And brings the chearful day.

II.

Her graceful forehead's wondrous fair,
As pureft air ferene;

No gloomy paffion rifing there,

O'ercafts the peaceful scene:

Her small bright eye-brows finely bend, Transport darts from her eyes;

The sparkling diamond they transcend, Or ftars which gem the skies.

III.

A rifing blush of heavenly dye

O'er her fair cheek still glows;
Her fhining locks in ringlets lie,
Well fhap'd and fiz'd her nofe;
Her fmiling lips are lovely red,

Like roses newly blown ;
Her iv'ry teeth (for most part hid)
You'd wish for ever shown.

IV.

Her fnowy neck and breasts like glass,
Or polish'd marble smooth,
That nymphs in beauty far surpass
Who'd fir'd the Trojan youth;
Her flender waist, white arm and hand,
Just symmetry does grace :

What's hid from thefe (if you demand)
Let lively fancy trace.

V.

A sprightly and angelic mind

Reigns in this comely frame, With decent ease acts unconfin'd, Inspires the whole like flame: Minerva or Diana's state,

With Venus' softness join'd, Proclaim her goddess, meant by fate, Love's rightful queen defign'd.

VI.

Good gods! what raptures fire my foul !
How flutters my fond heart!
When tender glances art controul,
And love fupprefs'd impart.
Propitious powers, make Celia mine,
Complete my dawning bliss;

At monarch's pomp I'll not repine,
Nor grudge their happiness.

The New Light.

I.

ELIA, now my heart hath broke

СЕ

The bond of your ungentle yoke, Diffolv'd the fetter of that chain By which I ftrove so long in vain :

May I be flighted if I e'er

Am caught again within your snare,
Am caught, &c.

II.

In vain you spread your treach'rous net,
In vain your wily fnares are fet;

The bird can now your arts espy,
And, arm'd with caution, from them fly:
Some heedlefs swain your prey may be,
But faith you're too well known to me.
But faith, &c.

III.

I with contempt can now despise
The treach'rous follies of your eyes,
And with contempt can fit and hear
You prattle nonsense half a year,
And go away as little mov'd
As you was lately when I lov'd,
As you was, &c.

IV.

I wonder what the plague it was
Made me fuch a stupid ass,
To fancy fuch a noble grace
In your language, mien, and face,
Where now I nothing more can find
Than what I fee in all your kind,
Than what, &c.

V.

Thus when the droufy god of fleep,
Upon our wearied fancies creep,
Some headless piece of image rife,
By fancies form'd delude our eyes :
But foon as e'er the god of day
Appears, they faint and die away,
Appears, they, &c.