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Along the solitary shore,

While flitting sea-fowl round me cry,
Across the rolling, dashing roar,

I'll westward turn my wistful eye:
"Happy thou Indian grove," I'll say,
"Where now my Nancy's path may be!
While thro' thy sweets she loves to stray,
O tell me, does she muse on me!"


As down the burn they took their way,
And thro' the flowery dale;
His cheek to hers he aft did lay,
And love was aye the tale:

With "Mary, when shall we return,

Sic pleasure to renew?"

Quoth Mary-"Love, I like the burn,
And aye shall follow you."


Tune-" Fee him, father, fee him."

THOU hast left me ever, Jamie,

Thou hast left me ever;

Thou hast left me ever, Jamie,

Thou hast left me ever:

Aften hast thou vow'd that Death
Only should us sever;

Now thou'st left thy lass for aye—

I maun see thee never, Jamie,
I'll see thee never.

Thou hast me forsaken, Jamie,
Thou hast me forsaken;

Thou hast me forsaken, Jamie,
Thou hast me forsaken;
Than canst love another jo,

While my heart is breaking;
Soon my weary een I'll close,
Never mair to waken, Jamie,
Never mair to waken!

WHERE ARE THE JOYS I HAVE MET? Tune-" Saw ye my father."

WHERE are the joys I have met in the morning, That danc'd to the lark's early song?

Where is the peace that awaited my wand'ring, At evening the wild-woods among?

No more a winding the course of yon river,
And marking sweet flowerets so fair,

No more I trace the light footsteps of Pleasure,
But Sorrow and sad-sighing Care.

Is it that Summer's forsaken our valleys,
And grim, surly Winter is near?

No, no, the bees humming round the gay roses
Proclaim it the pride of the year.

Fain would I hide what I fear to discover,
Yet long, long, too well have I known;
All that has caused this wreck in my bosom,
Is Jenny, fair Jenny alone.

Time cannot aid me, my griefs are immortal,
Nor Hope dare a comfort bestow:

Come then, enamour'd and fond of my anguish,
Enjoyment I'll seek in my woe.


Tune "The Collier's Dochter."

DELUDED Swain, the pleasure
The fickle Fair can give thee,
Is but a fairy treasure,

Thy hopes will soon deceive thee:
The billows on the ocean,

The breezes idly roaming,
The cloud's uncertain motion,
They are but types of Woman.

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Turn away thine eyes of love,
Lest I die with pleasure!

What is life when wanting Love?
Night without a morning:
Love's the cloudless summer sun,
Nature gay adorning.

4th November 1793.

OLD Winter, with his frosty beard,
Thus once to Jove his prayer preferred:
"What have I done of all the year,
To bear this hated doom severe?
My cheerless suns no pleasure know;
Night's horrid car drags dreary slow;
My dismal months no joys are crowning,
But spleeny English hanging, drowning.

"Now Jove, for once be mighty civil.
To counterbalance all this evil;
Give me, and I've no more to say,
Give me Maria's natal day!

That brilliant gift shall so enrich me,

Spring, Summer, Autumn, cannot match me."

""Tis done!" says Jove; so ends my story,

And Winter once rejoiced in glory.


Tune-"My Jo Janet."

"HUSBAND, husband, cease your strife,

Nor longer idly rave, Sir; Tho' I am your wedded wife Yet I am not your slave, Sir."

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"My poor heart, then break it must,
My last hour I am near it:
When you lay me in the dust,

Think how you will bear it."

"I will hope and trust in Heaven,
Nancy, Nancy;

Strength to bear it will be given,
My spouse Nancy."

"Well, Sir, from the silent dead,
Still I'll try to daunt you;
Ever round your midnight bed

Horrid sprites shall haunt you!"

"I'll wed another like my dear

Nancy, Nancy;

Then all hell will fly for fear,
My spouse Nancy."


Spoken by Miss Fontenelle on her Benefit Night December 4th, 1793, at the Theatre, Dumfries.

STILL anxious to secure your partial favour,

And not less anxious, sure, this night than ever,

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