AN ELEGY ON A LAP-DO.G. HOCK'S fate I mourn; poor Shock is now no more; SHOCK'S Ye Mufes, mourn; ye chamber-maids, deplore. Thy wretched fingers now no more shall deck, Her ftreaming eyes, wrung hands, and flowing hair; And her torn fan gives real figns of woe. That haunts with fancy'd fears the coward breaft; Stream eyes no more, no more thy treffes rend. Ceafe, Celia, cease; restrain thy flowing tears, 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." SONGS SONGS AND BALLADS. SWEET WILLIAM'S FAREWELL ALL in the Downs the fleet was moor'd, The ftreamers waving in the wind, When black-ey'd Sufan came aboard. Oh where fhall I my true-love find? William, who high upon the yard The cord flides fwiftly through his glowing hands, So the fweet lark, high-pois'd in air, Shuts close his pinions to his breast The nobleft Captain in the British fleet VOL. I. S O Sufan, O Sufan, Sufan, lovely dear, My vows fhall ever true remain ; We only part to meet again.. Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind. Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee fo, If to fair India's coaft we fail, Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright, Thus every beauteous object that I view, my foul fome charm of lovely Sue. Love turns afide the balls that round me fly, The fails their fwelling bofom spread; They kifs'd, the figh'd, he hung his head. A BAL A BALLAD, FROM THE WHAT-D'YE-CALL-IT. "TWAS 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 wistful look ; Her head was crown'd with willows, Twelve months are gone and over, The merchant, robb'd of pleasure, Should you fome coaft be laid on, But none that loves you fo. |