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Thine affections, in an instant,
This and that, and here and there,
Thou art weary, thou art wavering,
Coy, and in a while as kind;
To and fro, and up and down;
But to me thon ne'er art chang’d
In thy wonted cruelty !
Oh then, let thy next change be
If in that mind I could find ye,
I would hold thec fast enow.
Then, by my example taught,
Cupid and the Clown.
[From the same MS.]
As Cupid took his bow and bolt,
Some birding sport to find,
Which was some yeoman's hind.
Clown. “ Well met, fair boy! what sport abroad?
“ It is a goodly day;
“ You cannot choose but slay.
“ Gadzooks ! your eyes are both put out!
“ You will not bird, I trow? “ Alas, go home, or else I think
“ The birds will laugh at you.”
Cupid. “ Why man, thou dost deceive thyself,
“ Or else my mother lies,
“ My arrows should have eyes.”
* A copy of this, with some variations, is printed in “ Wit « restored.”
Clown.“ Why then thy mother is a fool,
And thou art but an elf,
“ And go without, thyself.”
Cupid. “ Not so, sir swain, but hold your prate;
" If I do take a shaft
With that the ploughman laugh’d.
Then angry Cupid drew his bow. Clown. “For God's sake slay ine not!" Cupid, “ I'll make thy lither liver ache.” Clown. “ Nay! I'll be loth of that !"
The stinging arrow hit the mark,
And pierc'd his silly soul :
Where Love had made a hole.
And so the clown went bleeding home;
(To stay it was no boot)
That could not see to shoot.
[Vide“ A choice Collection of comic and serious Scots
“ Poems, both ancient and modern,” in three parts, Edinburgh, Watson, 1709-1711, 8vo. and “The Hive,”(4 small volumes of songs) frequently printed before the middle of the last century. I can at present produce no earlier authorities, though the copy given in the first edition of this work was taken, I believe, from some more ancient miscellany. However, from the internal evidence of style and sentiment, I have no difficulty in referring this poem to the reign of Charles I.]
I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair,
And I might have gone near to love thee; Had I not found the slightest prayer
That lips could speak, had power to move thee; But I can let thee now alone As worthy to be lov'd by none.
I do confess thou’rt sweet, yet find
Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets,
That kisseth every thing it meets.
* This is the title given in Watson's collection. In the Hive it is " To his cheap mistress.”
* So the Hive. “ love," Watson's Coll. * So the Hive. " lov’d,” Watson.
The morning rose, that untouch'd stands,
Arm’d with her briars, how ' sweetly smells ! But pluck'd and strain'd through ruder hands,
Her sweets no longer with her dwells; But scent and beauty both are gone, And leaves fall from her, one by one.
Such fate, ere long, will thee betide,
When thou hast handled been a while !
And I shall sigh, while some will smile, 3
To the Moon.
(From a MS.) Thou silent Moon, that look'st so pale,
So much exhausted, and so faint,
So Watson. “most," the Hive. • To the best of my recollection, this is the reading of my original copy. Watson gives " fair flowers," and the Hive " those flowers,” both much inferior.
3 So the Hive. “you shall sigh when I shall smile," Watson.
* The editor has to apologize to the authoress of the two following beautiful little poems, Miss Scott, of Ancram, for