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Ceafe, Calia, ceafe; restrain thy flowing tears,
Some warmer paffion will difpel thy cares.
In man you'll find a more fubftantial bliss,
More grateful toying, and a sweeter kiss.

He's dead. Oh lay him gently in the ground!
And may his tomb be by this verse renown'd:
"Here Shock, the pride of all his kind, is laid;
Who fawn'd like man, but ne'er like man betray'd."





LL in the Downs the fleet was moor'd,

The ftreamers waving in the wind,
When black-ey'd Susan came aboard.

Oh! where fhall I my true-love find?
Tell me, ye jovial failors, tell me true,
If my fweet William fails among the crew.
William, who high upon the yard
Rock'd with the billow to and fro,
Soon as her well-known voice he heard,
He figh'd, and caft his eyes below:
The cord flides fwiftly through his glowing hands,
And (quick as lightning) on the deck he stands.

So the sweet lark, high-pois'd in air,
Shuts clofe his pinions to his breast
(If, chance, his mate's fhrill call he hear),
And drops at once into her neft.

The nobleft Captain in the British fleet

Might envy William's lip those kisses sweet.



O Sufan,

O Sufan, Sufan, lovely dear,

My vows fhall ever true remain ;
Let me kifs off that falling tear;

We only part to meet again..
Change, as ye lift, ye winds; my heart shall be
The faithful compafs that fill points to thee.
Believe not what the landmen fay,

Who tempt with doubts thy conftant mind,
They'll tell thec, failors, when away,
In every port a mistress find:

Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee fo,
For thou art present wherefoe'er I go.

If to fair India's coaft we fail,

Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright,
Thy breath is Africk's fpicy gale,
Thy fkin is ivory fo white.

Thus every beauteous object that I view,
Wakes in

my foul fome charm of lovely Sue.
Though battle call me from thy arms,
Let not my pretty Sufan mourn;
Though cannons roar, yet, fate from harms,
William fhall to his Dear return.

Love turns afide the balls that round me fly,
Left precious tears thould drop from Sufan's eye.
The boatfwain gave the dreadful word,

The fails their fwelling bofor fpread;
No longer muft fhe ftay aboard:

They kifs'd, the figh'd, he hung his head.
Her leffening boat unwilling rows to land:
Adieu! fhe cries; and wav'd her lily hand.


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WAS when the feas were roaring


With hollow blafts of wind;

A damfel lay deploring,

All on a rock reclin'd.

Wide o'er the foaming billows

She caft a wifful look;

Her head was crown'd with willows,
That trembled o'er the brook.

Twelve months are gone and over,
And nine long tedious days.
Why didft thou, venturous lover,
Why didft thou trust the feas?
Ceafe, ceafe, thou cruel Ocean,
And let my lover rest:
Ah! what's thy troubled motion
To that within my breaft?

The merchant, robb'd of pleasure,
Sees tempefts in defpair;
But what's the lofs of treafure,
To lofing of my dear?

Should fome coaft be laid on,'


Where gold and diamonds grow, You'd find a richer maiden,

But none that loves you fo.

S 2


How can they say that nature
Has nothing made in vain ;
Why then beneath the water
Should hideous rocks remain ?
No eyes the rocks discover,
That lurk beneath the deep,
To wreck the wandering lover,
And leave the maid to weep.

All melancholy lying,

Thus wail'd fhe for her dear;
Repay'd each blast with fighing,
Each billow with a tear;
When o'er the white wave ftooping,
His floating corpfe fhe spy'd;
Then, like a lily drooping,

She bow'd her head, and dy'd.



PHYLLIDA, that lov'd to dream

In the grove, or by the stream ;
Sigh'd on velvet pillow.

What, alas fhould fill her head,
But a fountain, or a mead,

Water and a willow?

Love in cities never dwells,
He delights in rural cells

Which fweet woodbine covers.



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