SONGS AND BALLADS.

^{..………………………………………………….…………………………………….}

^{.………………………………………………….…………………………………….}

UPON A PLAIN.

A BALLAD.

____

UPON the plain there liv’d a swain,

A flock his whole employ;

Unknown love’s cares, and all its snares,

To damp his humble joy.

Industry toils, while Fortune smiles,

To bless him with increase;

Contentment made his humble trade

A scene of health and peace.

₁₆₈^{………………………………………………….………………………….}

But Cupid sly, whose jealous eye

Envied his happiness, 10

With pointed darts and subtle arts

Resolv’d on his distress.

Though first in vain he work’d his brain,

Yet, practis’d in deceit,

Fresh schemes and plans were nigh his hands;

And some were sure to hit.

In fatal hour he prov’d his power;

A shepherd’s form he’s ta’en,

With crook and song he hums along,

And thus accosts the swain: 20

“Go, Friend,” he cried, “to yonder side

The hedge that bounds the plain,

For there a lamb has lost its dam,

₁₆₈ And bleats for help in vain.”

₁₆₉^{………………………………………………….………………………….}

Intent to start, his tender heart

O’erlooks the subtle snare;

The swain’s beguil’d, pleas’d Cupid smil’d,—

Fair Florimel was there.

The roses red her cheeks bespread,

Her bosom’s lily white; 30

To view her charms each bosom warms,

Enraptur’d at the sight.

Her heaving breast, her slender waist,

Her shape genteel and tall,

Her charms divine unrivall’d shine,

Alike confess’d by all.

Beneath the shade, the lovely maid

Lay shelter’d from the sun.

O luckless swain! go, fly the plain,

₁₆₉ Or stay and be undone. 40

₁₇₀^{………………………………………………….………………………….}

For, ah! ’twas prov’d, by them that lov’d,

She own’d a scornful eye;

Her pride was vain, the way to gain

Her pity, was to die.

Stretch’d on the green, her beauty’s seen

To all advantage there;

To meet the breeze that fann’d the trees,

Her snowy neck was bare.

She meets his view; sweet Peace, adieu!

And pleasures known before: 50

He sighs, approves, admires, and loves;

His heart’s his own no more.

₁₇₀

₁₇₁^{………………………………………………….……………………….}

FRIEND LUBIN.

____

FRIEND Lubin loves his Saturdays,

That bring him rest on Sundays;

But Whittler loves contrary ways,

And wishes all were Mondays.

The Labourer doats on welcome night

To rest his weary limbs;

And Misses in the day delight,

To shew their dressy whims.

But oh, the day and night to me,

The Saturday or Monday, 10

I care not which-a-way they be,

₁₇₁ Or working day or Sunday

₁₇₂^{………………………………………………….………………………….}

Oh no, I care not what they be,

Though night I most approve;

But oh, the day is dear to me,

That brings me to my love.

____

PATTY OF THE VALE.

____

WHERE lonesome woodlands close surrounding

Mark the spot a solitude,

And nature’s uncheck’d scenes abounding

Form a prospect wild and rude,

A cottage cheers the spot so glooming,

Hid in the hollow of the dale,

Where, in youth and beauty blooming,

₁₇₂ Lives sweet Patty of the Vale.

₁₇₃^{………………………………………………….………………………….}

Gay as the lambs her cot surrounding,

Sporting wild the shades among, 10

O’er the hills and bushes bounding,

Artless, innocent, and young,

Fresh, as blush of morning roses

Ere the mid-day suns prevail,

Fair, as lily-bud uncloses,

Blooms sweet Patty of the Vale.

Low and humble though her station,

Dress though mean she’s doom’d to wear,

Few superiors in the nation

With her beauty can compare. 20

What are riches?—not worth naming,

Though with some they may prevail;

Their’s be choice of wealth proclaiming,

₁₇₃ Mine is Patty of the Vale.

₁₇₄^{………………………………………………….………………………….}

Fools may fancy wealth and fortune

Join to make a happy pair,

And for such the god importune,

With full many a fruitless prayer:

I, their pride and wealth disdaining

Should my humble hopes prevail, 30

Happy then, would cease complaining,

Blest with Patty of the Vale.

____

SAD WAS THE DAY.

____

SAD was the day when my Willy did leave me,

Sad were the moments that wing’d him away;

And oh, most distressing, and most it did grieve me,

₁₇₄ To witness his looks while I begg’d him to stay.

₁₇₅^{………………………………………………….…………………………………….}

It hurt him to think that in vain was I crying,

Which I couldn’t help, though I knew it so too;

The trumpets all sounding, the colours all flying,

A soldier my Willy—my Willy must go.

The youths, never heeding to-morrow and danger,

Kept laughing and toasting their girls o’er their beer; 10

But oh, my poor Willy, just like a lost stranger,

Stood speechless among them, half dead as it were.

He kiss’d me—’twas all—not a word when he started,

And oh, in his silence too much I could see,

He knew for a truth, and he knew, broken hearted,

That kiss was the last he should ever give me.

₁₇₅

₁₇₆^{………………………………………………….…………………………………….}

TO-DAY THE FOX MUST DIE.

A HUNTING SONG.

____

THE cock awakes the rosy dawn,

And tells approaching day,

While Reynard sneaks along the lawn

Belated with his prey:

Oh never think to find thy home,

But for thy safety fly;

The sportsman’s long proclaim’d thy doom,

“To-day a Fox shall die.”

The bugle blows, the sporting train

Swift mount the snorting steed, 10

Each fence defiance bids in vain

₁₇₆ Their progress to impede;

₁₇₇^{………………………………………………….…………………………………….}

The cover broke, they drive along,

And raise a jovial cry;

Each dog barks chorus to my song,

“To-day a Fox shall die.”

Like lightning o’er the hills they sweep,

The readiest roads they go;

The five-barr’d gate with ease they leap:

Hark forward, tally ho! 20

The mist hangs on, and scents him strong,

The moisture makes it lie;

The woods re-echo to my song,

“This day the Fox must die.”

Old Reynard finding shifts in vain,

While hounds and horns pursue,

Now leaves the woods to try the plain,

₁₇₇ The bugle sounds a view:

₁₇₈^{………………………………………………….…………………………………….}

Old Threadbrake gaily leads the throng;

His bold unerring cry 30

Confirms the burthen of my song,

“This day a Fox shall die.”

His funeral knell the bugle blows,

His end approaches near,

He reels and staggers as he goes,

And drops his brush with fear:

More eager now they press along,

And louder still the cry,

All join in chorus to my song,

“To-day the Fox must die.” 40

₁₇₈

₁₇₉^{………………………………………………….…………………………………….}

MY LAST SHILLING.

____

O DISMAL disaster! O troublesome lot!

What a heart-rending theme for my musing I’ve got:

Then pray what’s the matter?—O friend, I’m not willing,

The thought grieves me sore,

Now I’m driven to shore—

And must I then spend my last shilling, last shilling?

And must I then spend my last shilling?

O painful reflection! thou whole of my store,

That for these three months in my breeches I wore;

₁₇₉ To spend thee, to spend thee, the thought turns me chilling: 10

₁₈₀^{………………………………………………….…………………………………….}

Oh, must I in spite

Of all reason, this night,

A farewell bid to my last shilling, last shilling,

A farewell bid to my last shilling.

How oft in my corner I’ve bother’d my pate,

First mourn’d at my shilling, and then at my fate,

To think the world’s riches—though painful and killing,

While I here endure

The sad pain past a cure,

Of being drain’d to my very last shilling, last shilling, 20

Of being drain’d to my very last shilling.

O couldst thou but answer, dear whole of my store,

I’d ask thee a question: Thus friendless and poor,

₁₈₀ ’Tis whether thou wouldst to forsake me be willing?

₁₈₁^{………………………………………………….…………………………………….}

Or whether it still

Would be more to thy will

To stay, and be call’d my last shilling, last shilling?

To stay, and be call’d my last shilling?

Thou source of reflection, my friend, and my all!

For tho’ I’m left friendless thou stick’st to thy stall; 30

And through each vexing trouble seem’st cheery and willing:

Thee to keep I’ll contrive,

For I’m sure I shan’t thrive

If ever I spend such a shilling, a shilling,

If ever I spend such a shilling.

So still, old companion, stick true to the breeches,

And wear this old pocket thread-bare to its stitches;

₁₈₁ For ever to keep thee I really am willing:

₁₈₂^{………………………………………………….…………………………………….}

And who knows, but what thou

(Though I’m hard ashore now) 40

May turn out a lucky last shilling, last shilling,

May turn out a lucky last shilling?

____

HER I LOVE.

____

ROSE, in full blown blushes dyed,

Pink, maturely spread,

Carnations, boasting all their pride

Of melting white and red,

Are charms confess’d by every eye;

But, ah! how faint they prove

To paint superior charms, when nigh

₁₈₂ The cheek of her I love.

₁₈₃^{………………………………………………….………………………….}

Ripe cherry on its parent tree,

With full perfection grac’d, 10

Red coral in its native sea,

To all advantage plac’d;

What charms they boast the eye to please,

And beauty to improve:

But, ah! all’s lost, when match’d with these

The lips of her I love.

The pulpy plum, when ripeness swells

Its down-surrounding blue—

The dews besprent on heather-bells,

Reflecting brighter hue— 20

The azure sky, when stars appear

Its blueness to improve,

Fade into dullest shades, when near

₁₈₃ The eyes of her I love.

₁₈₄^{………………………………………………….………………………….}

Sweet is the blossom’d bean’s perfume,

By morning breezes shed;

And sweeter still the jonquil’s bloom,

When eve bedews its head;

The perfume sweet of pink and rose,

And violet of the grove: 30

But ah! how sweeter far than those,

The kiss of her I love.

____

MY LOVE, THOU ART A NOSEGAY

SWEET.

____

MY love, thou art a nosegay sweet,

My sweetest flower I prove thee;

And pleas’d I pin thee to my breast,

₁₈₄ And dearly do I love thee.

₁₈₅^{………………………………………………….………………………….}

And when, my nosegay, thou shalt fade,

As sweet a flower thou’lt prove thee;

And as thou witherest on my breast,

For beauty past I’ll love thee.

And when, my nosegay, thou shalt die,

And heaven’s flower shalt prove thee; 10

My hopes shall follow to the sky,

And everlasting love thee.

____

MY LOVE’S LIKE A LILY.

____

MY love’s like a lily, my love’s like a rose,

My love’s like a smile the Spring mornings disclose;

And sweet as the rose, on her cheek her love glows,

₁₈₅ When sweetly she smileth on me:

₁₈₆^{………………………………………………….…………………………………….}

But as cold as the snow of the lily, my rose

Behaves to pretenders, whoever they be;

In vain higher stations their passions disclose,

To win her affections from me.

My love’s like a lily, my love’s like a rose,

My love’s like the smile the Spring mornings disclose; 10

And fair as the lily, and sweet as the rose,

My love’s beauty bloometh to me:

And smiles of more pleasure my heart only knows,

To think that pretenders, whoever they be,

But vainly their love and their passions disclose;

My love remains constant to me.

₁₈₆

₁₈₇^{………………………………………………….…………………………………….}

TRUE LOVE.

____

TRUE love, the virgin’s first fond passion,

How blest the swain to prove it!

Should Hymen snatch the lucky hour,

No power on earth can move it.

When death such loving hearts divides,

And love on earth is blasting;

Firm fix’d the hope in heaven remains,

Where love is everlasting.

₁₈₇

₁₈₈^{………………………………………………….…………………………………….}

THE FIRST OF MAY.

A BALLAD.

____

FAIR blooms the rose upon the green,

Pretending to excel;

But who another rose has seen,

A different tale can tell.

The morning smiles, the lark’s begun

To welcome in the May:

Be cloudless, skies! look out, bright sun!

And haste my love away.

Though graceful round the maidens move,

That join the rural ball, 10

Soon shall they own my absent love

₁₈₈ The rival of them all.

₁₈₉^{……………………………………….…………………………………….}

Go, wake your shepherdess, ye lambs!

And murmur her delay:

Chide her neglect, ye hoarser dams!

And call my love away.

Ye happy swains, with each a bride,

Were but the angel there,

While slighted maids despair’d and sigh’d,

You’d court th’ unequall’d fair. 20

Dry up, ye dews! nor threat’ning hing,

To soil her best array:

Ye birds! with double vigour sing,

And urge my love away.

Welcome, sun! the dews are fled,

The lark has rais’d his song;

The daisy nauntles up its head,—

₁₈₉ Why waits my love so long?

₁₉₀^{………………………………………………….………………………….}

As flowrets fade, the pleasures bloom,

All hastening to decay: 30

The day steals on, and showers may come:

This instant haste away.

What now, ye fearful cringing sheep!

Who meets your wondering eyes?

What makes you ’neath the maples creep,

In homaging surprise?

No ladies tread our humble green:

Ah! welcome wonders, hail!

I witness your mistaken queen

₁₉₀ Is Patty of the Vale. 40

^{………………………………………………….………………………….}