XXXV.

O here I spy Down; cast your eye to the west, Where a windmill so stately stands plainly confest On the West! reply'd Matthew, no windmill I find;

As well thou mayst tell me I see the west wind, Derry down, &c.

XXXVI.

Now pardon me, Morley, the windmill I spy, But, faithful Achates, no house is there nigh. Look again, says mild Morley, Gadzooks you are blind;

The mill stands before, and the house lies behind, Derry Down, &c.

XXXVII.

O now a low ruin'd white shed I discern,
Until'd and unglaz'd, I believe 'tis a barn.
A barn! why you rave; 'tis a house for a 'squire,
A justice of peace, or a knight of our shire,

Derry down, &c.

XXXVIII.

A house should be built or with brick or with stone. Why, 'tis plaister and lath, and I think that's all

one:

And such as it is, it has stood with great fame,
Been called a Hall, and has given its name
To Down, Down, hey derry down.

XXXIX.

O Morley, O Morley, if that be a Hall,
The fame with the building will suddenly fall—

With your friend Jemmy Gibbs about buildings

agree,

My bus'ness is land, and it matters not me,
Derry down, &c.

I wish

XL.

you could tell what the deuce your head ails; I show'd you Down-Hall, did you look for Ver

sailles?

Then take house and farm as John Ballet will let ye, For better for worse, as I took my dame Betty, Derry down, &c.

XLI.

And now, Sir, a word to the wise is enough;
You'll make very little of all your old stuff;
And to build at your age, by my troth you grow
simple;

Are you young and rich, like the master of Wimple * ?

Derry down, &c.

XLII.

If you have these whims of apartments and gardens, From twice fifty acres you'll ne'er see five farthings; And in yours I shall find the true gentleman's fate, finish your house you'll have spent your

Ere

you

estate,

Derry down, &c.

XLIII.

Now let us touch thumbs ; and be friends ere we part. Here, John,is my thumb ; and here, Matt,is myheart:

* Edward, late Earl of Oxford.

To Halstead I speed, and go you back to town; Thus ends the first part of the Ballad of Down, Derry down, down, hey derry down.

A SONG.

Ir wine and music have the pow'r
To ease the sickness of the soul,
Let Phoebus ev'ry string explore,

And Bacchus fill the sprightly bowl:
Let them their friendly aid employ
To make my Chloe's absence light,
And seek for pleasure, to destroy

The sorrows of this live-long night.
But she to-morrow will return;

Venus, be thou to-morrow great;
Thy myrtles strow, thy odours burn,
And meet thy fav'rite nymph in state.
Kind Goddess, to no other pow'rs

Let us to-morrow's blessings own,
Thy darling Loves shall guide the hours,
And all the day be thine alone.

SONGS SET TO MUSIC

BY THE MOST EMINENT MASTERS.

I. SET BY MR. ABEL.

READING ends in melancholy,

Wine breeds vices and diseases, Wealth is but care, and love but folly, Only friendship truly pleases.

My wealth, my books, my flask, my Molly, Farewell all, if friendship ceases.

II. SET BY MR. PURCELL

I.

WHITHER Would my passion run?

Shall I fly her or pursue her? Losing her, I am undone,

Yet would not gain her, to undo her,

II.

Ye tyrants of the human breast,

Love and Reason! cease your war, And order death to give me rest,

So each will equal triumph share,

III. SET BY MR. DE FESCH.

I.

STREPHONETTA, why d'ye fly me,
With such rigour in your eyes?
Oh! 'tis cruel to deny me,

Since your charms I so much prize.

II.

But I plainly see the reason

Why in vain I you pursu'd;
Her to gain 'twas out of season,
Who before the chaplain woo'd.

IV. SET BY MR. SMITH.

I.

COME, weep no more, for 'tis in vain ;
Torment not thus your pretty heart;
Think, Flavia, we may meet again,
As well as that we now must part.

II.

You sigh and weep; the gods neglect That precious dew your eyes let fall; Our joy and grief with like respect They mind, and that is not at all.

III.

We pray, in hopes they will be kind,
As if they did regard our state;
They hear, and the return we find,
Is, that no pray'rs can alter Fate,