The nobleft captain in the British fleet,
Might envy William's lips thofe kifles fweet.

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 compass, that still points to thee..

Believe not what the landmen say,

Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind; They'll tell thee, failors, when away,

In ev'ry port a mistress find

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

If to far India's coaft we fail,

Thy eyes are feen in diamonds bright: Thy breath in Afric's fpicy gale;

Thy fkin is ivory fo white:

Thus ev'ry beauteous object, that I view,
Wakes in my foul fome charms of lovely Sue.

Tho' battle call me from thy arms,
Let not my pretty Sufan mourn;
Tho' cannons roar, yet fafe from harms.
William fhall to his dear return:

Love turns afide the balls that round me fly,
Left precious tears fhould drop from Sufan's eye..

The boatswain gave the dreadful word,

The fails their fwelling bofom fpread;

No longer muft fhe stay aboard :

They kifs'd; the figh'd: he hung his head.

Her lefs'ning boat unwilling rows to land:
Adieu! he cries: and wav'd her lilly hand.

TH

SON G.

The Garland.

Written by Mr. Prior.

HE pride of ev'ry grove I chofe, The violet fweet, and lilly fair, The dappled pink, and blushing rofe, To deck my charming Chloe's hair.

At morn the nymph vouchfaf'd, to place
Upon her brow the various wreathe,
The flow'rs lefs blooming than her face,
The fcent lefs fragrant than her breath.

The flow'rs the wore along the day;

And ev'ry nymph and fhepherd faid, That in her hair they look'd more gay Than glowing in their native bed.

Undreft at ev'ning when the found
Their colours loft. their odours past,
She chang'd her look, and on the ground
Her garland and her eye fhe caft.

That eye dropt fenfe diftinct and clear,
As any mufe's tongue could fpeak;
When from it's lid a pearly tear

Ran trickling down her beauteous cheek.

Diffembling what I knew too well,
My love, my life, faid I, explain,
This change of humour; pr'ythee tell,
That falling tear, what does it mean ✈

She figh,d, the fmil'd; and to the flow'rs
Pointing, the lovely moralift faid,
See, friend, in fome few fleeting hours,
See yonder, what a change is made!

Ah me! the blooming pride of May
And that of beauty are but one;
At noon both flourish bright and gay,
Both fade at ev'ning, pale and gone.

At dawn poor Stella danc'd and fung,
The am'rous youth around her bow'd;
At night her fatal knell was rung,
I faw, and kifs'd her in her shroud.

Such as fhe is, who dy'd to-day,
Such 1, alas may be to-morrow;
Go, Damon, bid thy mufe difplay
The juftice of thy Chloe's forrow.

SONG.

Sung in Love in a Village.

OPE! thou nurse of young defire,

H Fairy promifer of joy ;

Painted vapour, glow-worm fire,
Temp'rate fweet, that ne'er can cloyi

Hope! thou earnest of delight,
Softeft foother of the mind;
Balmy cordial, profpect bright,
Sureft friend the wretched find.

Kind deceiver, Aatter fill;
Deal out pleasures unpoffefs'd
With thy dreams my fancy fill,
And in wishes make me bleft.

SONG.

SONG.

Mary's Dream.

HE moon had climb'd the highest hill,
Which rifes o'er the fource of Dee,

THE

And from the Eaftern fummit fhed

Her filver light on tow'r and tree; When Mary laid her down to fleep, Her thoughts on Sandy far at fea: Then foft and low a voice was heard

Say, Mary weep no more for me.'

She from her pillow gently rais'd

Her head, to ask who there might be,
And faw young Sandy fhiv'ring ftand,
With pallia cheek and hollow eye:
O! Many dear, cold is my clay,
It lies beneath a formy fea:
Far, far from thee I fleep in death;
So, Mary, weep no more for me.

Three ftormy nights and ftormy days.
We tofs'd upon the raging main,
And long we trove our bark to fave-
But all our ftriving was in vain.
E'en then, when horror chill'd my blood,
My heart was fill'd with love of thee:

The ftorm is paft, and I at reft;

So, Mary, weep no more for me,
• O! maiden dear, thyfelf prepare ;
We foon fhall meet upon that shore,
Where love is free from doubt or care,
And thou and I fhall part no more.'
Loud crow'd the cock, the fhadow fled;
No more of Sandy could fhe fee;
But foft the paffing fpirit faid,

⚫ Sweet Mary, weep no more for me.'

SONG.

Co

SONG.

Sung in the Maid of the Oaks.

NOME fing round my fav'rite tree,
Ye fongiters that vifit the grove;
'Twas the haunt of my fhepherd and me;
And the bark is the record of love.

Reclin❜d on the turf by my fide,
He tenderly pleaded his caufe;
I only with blushes reply'd,

And the nightingale fill'd up the pause.

SONG

Written by Mr. O'Keefe.

LOW, thou regal purple ftream,
Tinted by the folar beam;

In my goblet fparkling rife,

Cheer my heart, and glad my eyes :
My brain, afcend on fancy's wing,
'Noint me, wine, a jovial king.
While I live, I'll lave my clay;
When I'm dead and gone awayɔ.
Let my thirsty fubjects fay,

A month he reign'd, and that was May!

SONG.

The Gift of the Gods.

7HEN freedom was banish'd from Greece and from Rome,

WH

And wander'd neglected in fearch of a home,

Jove,