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SONG XVI.

BY ROBERT WOLSELEY · ESQ.

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REEDOM is a real treasure,

Love a dream, all false and vain; Short, uncertain, is the pleasure,

Sure and lasting is the pain.

A sincere and tender passion

Some ill-planet over-rules ; Ah, how blind is inclination !

Fate and women doat on fools.

SONG XVII.

BY SIR GEORGE ETHEREG I.

Y

E happy swains, whose hearts are free

From Loves imperial chain,
Take warning, and be taught by me,

T'avoid th' inchanting pain.
Fatal the wolves to trembling flocks,

Fierce winds to blossoms prove,
To careless seamen hidden rocks,

To human quiet love.

Fly the fair sex, if bliss you prize;

The snake's beneath the flower : Who ever gaz'd on beauteous eyes, That tasted quiet more ?

H 4

How

How faithless is the lovers joy!

How constant is his care!
The kind with falsehood do destroy,

The cruel with despair.

SONG XVIII.

IMITATED FROM CHAUCER.

F

ROM sweet bewitching tricks of love
Young men your

hearts secure,
Lest from the paths of sense you rove,

In dotage premature.
Look at each lass through wisdoms glass,

Nor trust the naked eye:
Gallants beware, look sharp, take care,

The blind eat many a fly.

Not only on their hands and necks

The borrow'd white you'll find;
Some belles, when interest directs,

Can even paint the mind;
Joy in distress they can express,

Their very tears can lie:
Gallants beware, look sharp, take care,

The blind eat many a fly.

There's not a spinster in the realm

But all mankind can cheat,
Down to the cottage from the helm,

The learn'd, the brave, the great:

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With lovely looks, and golden hooks,

T'entangle us they try:
Gallants beware, look sharp, take care,

The blind eat many a fly.

Could we with ink the ocean fill,

Was earth of parchment made;
Was every single stick a quill,

Each man a fcribe by trade;
To write the tricks of half the sex

Would suck that ocean dry :
Gallants beware, look iharp, take care,

The blind eat many a fly.

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LD Chaucer once to this re-echoing grove

Sung of “ The sweet bewitching tricks of love;"
But soon he found he'd fullied his renown,
And arm'd each charming hearer with a frown:

* Spring-gardens, Vauxhall, where the foregoing ballad was sung.

Then

Then self-condemn'd anew his lyre he ftrung,
And in repentant strains this recantation sung,

AIR.

Long since unto her native sky
Fled heav'n-descended Constancy ;
Nought now that's stable’s to be had,
The world's grown mutable and mad :
Save Women - -- they, we must confess,
Are miracles of stedfastness;
And ev'ry witty, pretty dame
Bears for her motto - STILL THE SAME.

The flowers that in the vale are seen,
The white, the yellow, blue and green,
In brief complexion idly gay
Still set with every setting day,
Dispers'd by wind, or chill'd by frost,
Their odour's gone, their colour loft:
But what is true, though passing strange,
The Women never - fade or change,

The Wife Man said that all was vain,
And follies universal reign ;
Wisdom its vot'ries oft enthralls,
Riches torment, and pleasure palls ;
And 'tis, good lack, a gen'ral rule,
That each man foon or late's a fool:
In Women 'tis th' exception lies,
For they are wondrous, wondrous wife.

This earthly ball with noise abounds,
And from its emptiness it sounds;
Fame's deafʼning din, the hum of men,
The lawyers plea, the poet's pen :
But Women here no one suspects,
Silence distinguishes that sex;
For, poor dumb things! fo meek's their mould,
You scarce can hear 'em - - - when they fcold,

CHORUS

An hundred mouths, an hundred tongues,
An hundred pair of iron lungs,
Five heralds, and five thousand criers,
With throats whose accent never tires,
Ten speaking-trumpets, of a fize
Would deafness with their din surprise,
Your praise, sweet nymphs, shall fing and say,
And those that will believe it

may.

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