Ο

N the Brow of Richmond Hill,
Which Europe scarce can parallel,

Ev'ry Eye such Wonders fill,

To view the Prospect round;

By whose fair Fruitful side,

The Silver Thames does softly glide,
Meadows dress'd in Summers Pride,
With verdant Beauties crown'd:
Lovely Cynthia passing by,

With brighter Glories blest my Eye,
Ah! then in vain, in vain said I,

The Fields and Flowers do shine:
Nature in this Charming Place,
Created Pleasure in Excess,
But all are Poor to Cynthia's Face,

Whose Features are Divine.

See

See the Beautious River run,
See every Billow Rowling on,
Trees and flowers Court the Sun,
In yonder shady Wood,
But when Cynthia does appear,
To bless my Eyes with all that's fair,
Ah! what Beauty can compare

To Charming Flesh and Blood; Nature all her Rural Joys,

At large exposes to our Eyes,
But Hills and Valleys, Air and Skyes
Henceforth let fools admire;
Cynthia that my Life may be,
Crown'd with true felicity,
Let my Prospect still be thee
No other I'll desire.

A Scotch SONG.

1

f

:

L

Ads and Lasses Blith and Gay,
Hear what my Song discloses,
As I one Morning sleeping lay,
Upon a bank of Roses:
Willy ganging out his Gate,

By geud luck chanc'd to spy me;
And pulling Bonnet from his Pate,
He softly lay down by me.

Willy tho' I muckle priz'd,

Yet now I wou'd not know him
But made a Frown my Face disguis'd,
And from me strove to throw him:
Fondly he still nearer prest,

Upon my Bosom lying;

His beating Heart too thump'd so fast,
I thought the Loon was dying.

But resolving to deny,

An angry Passion feigning;
I often roughly push'd him by,
With words full of disdaining :
Willy baulk'd no favour wins,

Went off so discontented;
But I geud faith for all my Sins,
Ne'er half so much Repented.

VOL. I.

X

A

A Scotch SONG.

N Fanuary last, on Munnonday at Morn,
As I along the Fields did pass to view the
Winter's Corn ;

I leaked me behind, and I saw come over the Knough,
Yan glenting in an Apron with bonny brent Brow.

I bid gud morrow fair Maid, and she right courteouslie, Bekt lew and fine, kind Sir, she said, gud day agen to

ye;

I spear'd o her, fair Maid quo I, how far intend ye now? Quo she, I mean a Mile or twa, to yonder bonny brow.

Fair Maid, I'm weel contented to have sike Company, For I am ganging out the Gate that ya intend ta be; When we had walk'd a Mile or twa, Ize said to her, my Doe,

May I not dight your Apron fine, kiss your bonny brow.

Nea, gud Sir, you are far misteen, for I am nean o'those, I hope ya ha more Breeding then to dight a Womans Cloaths;

For I've a better chosen than any sike as you,

Who boldly may my Apron dight and kiss ma bonny brow.

Na, if ya are contracted, I have ne mar to say,
Rather than be rejected, I will give o'er the play;
And I will chose yen o me own that shall not on me

rew,

Will boldly let me dight her Apron, kiss her bonny brow.

Sir, Ize see ya are proud-hearted, and leath to be said

nay,

You need not tall ha started, for eight that Ize ded say; You know Wemun for Modestie, ne at the first time boo, But, gif we like your Company, we are as kind as you.