XIX. THE LUNATIC LOVER, MAD SONG THE THIRD, -is given from an old printed copy in the British Museum, compared with another in the Pepys collection; both in black letter. RIM king of the ghofts, make hafte, GR And bring hither all your train; See how the pale moon does wafte, And just now is in the wane. Come, you night-hags, with all your charms, And revelling witches away, And hug me close in your arms; brain : I'll court you, and think you fair, But if the prove peevish and proud, I'll feek me a winding throud, And down to the fhades below. A lunacy fad I endure, Since reafon departs away; Now flights me with scorn and difdain Ah! how fhall I bear my pain! I ramble, and range about. To find out my charming faint; While fhe at my grief does flout, And fmiles at my loud complaint. Diftraction I fee is my doom, Of this I am now too fure; A rival is got in my room, Strange fancies do fill my head, I am to the defarts lead, 115 20 25 30 35 Methinks A a 4 Methinks in a spangled cloud And labour to reach the sky. When thus I have raved awhile, And bitterly do complain. I dream that my charming fair Are on the fair pillow bespread. I ftart, and no longer can lie : Ah! Sylvia, art thou not to blame To ruin a lover? I cry. 40 45 50 55 60 Το To the elyfian shades I post In hopes to be freed from care, XX. THE LADY DISTRACTED WITH LOVE, MAD SONG THE FOURTH, was originally fung in one of Tom D'URFEY'S comedies of Don Quixote acted in 1694 and 1696; and probably compofed by himself. In the feveral fianzas, the author reprefents his pretty Mad-woman as 1. Jullenly mad : 2. mirthfully mad: 3. melancholy mad: 4. fantastically mad: and 5. ftark mad. Both this, and Num. XXII. are printed from D'urfey's "Pills to purge Melancholy." 1719. vol. 1. FR ROM rofie bowers, where fleeps the god of love, Hither, ye little wanton cupids, fly; Teach me in foft melodious ftrains to move With tender paffion my heart's darling joy: Ah! let the foul of mufick tune my voice, 5 To win dear Strephon, who my foul enjoys. Or, if more influencing Is to be brisk and airy, I'll trip like any fairy. As once on Ida dancing Were three celeftial bodies: With an air, and a face, And a fhape, and a grace, I'll charm, like beauty's goddess. Ah! 'tis in vain! 'tis all, 'tis all in vain! Death and defpair muft end the fatal pain : My pulfe beats a dead march for lost repose, Or fay, ye powers, my peace to crown, Among the foaming billows? On beds of ooze, and cryftal pillows 25 No, no, I'll ftrait run mad, mad, mad, 30 When |