And that's the day that comes betwixt A Saturday and Monday; For then I'm drest all in my best To walk abroad with Sally; She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley. 30 My master carries me to church, And often am I blamed Because I leave him in the lurch 35 I leave the church in sermon-time She is the darling of my heart, 40 When Christmas comes about again I'll hoard it up, and box it all, I'll give it to my honey: I would it were ten thousand pound, 45 She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley. My master and the neighbours all And, but for her, I'd better be But when my seven long years are out O then we'll wed, and then we'll bed, 132 A FAREWELL H. CAREY. Go fetch to me a pint o' wine, 50 55 The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith, Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the Ferry, The trumpets sound, the banners fly, The battle closes thick and bloody; 5 11 15 133 If doughty deeds my lady please And he that bends not to thine eye Then tell me how to woo thee, love; 10 For thy dear sake, nae care I'll take, If gay attire delight thine eye I'll tend thy chamber door all night, 15 If sweetest sounds can win thine ear, 20 But if fond love thy heart can gain, Nae maiden lays her skaith to me, I never loved but you. For you I wear the blue; For you alone I strive to sing, 25 O tell me how to woo ! Then tell me how to woo thee, love; For thy dear sake, nae care I'll take, R. GRAHAM OF GARTMORE, 134 TO A YOUNG LADY 30 Sweet stream, that winds through yonder glade, Far from the world's gay busy throng: 5 10 W. COWPER. 135 THE SLEEPING BEAUTY Sleep on, and dream of Heaven awhile- Thy rosy lips still wear a smile And move, and breathe delicious sighs! Ah, now soft blushes tinge her cheeks And mantle o'er her neck of snow : 5 She starts, she trembles, and she weeps! Sleep on secure! Above control 10 Thy thoughts belong to Heaven and thee: And may the secret of thy soul Remain within its sanctuary! S. ROGERS. 15 136 For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove And when we meet a mutual heart Bid us sigh on from day to day, But busy, busy, still art thou, For once, O Fortune, hear my prayer, All other blessings I resign, Make but the dear Amanda mine. 5 10 15 J. THOMSON. 137 The merchant, to secure his treasure, My softest verse, my darling lyre That I should sing, that I should play. My lyre I tune, my voice I raise, But with my numbers mix my sighs; Fair Cloe blush'd: Euphelia frown'd: I sung, and gazed; I play'd, and trembled : And Venus to the Loves around Remark'd how ill we all dissembled. 15 M. PRIOR. 138 When lovely woman stoops to folly The only art her guilt to cover, To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover 139 O. GOLDSMITH. Ye flowery banks o' bonnie Doon, Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird That sings upon the bough ; Thou minds me o' the happy days 5 5 |