Ceafe, Calia, cease; restrain thy flowing tears, Some warmer paffion will difpel thy cares. In man you'll find a more fubstantial blifs, More grateful toying, and a sweeter kifs. He's dead. Oh lay him gently in the ground! And may his tomb be by this verfe renown'd: Here Shock, the pride of all his kind, is laid; "Who fawn'd like man, but ne'er like man betray'd."

SONGS

SONGS AND BALLADS.

SWEET WILLIAM'S FAREWELL
TO BLACK-EYED SUSAN.

A

LL in the Downs the fleet was moor'd,
The ftreamers waving in the wind,
When black-ey'd Susan came aboard.
Oh where fhall I my true-love find?
Tell me, ye jovial failors, tell me true,
If my fweet William fails

among the crew.

William, who high upon the yard
Rock'd with the billow to and fro,
Soon as her well-known voice he heard,
He figh'd, and caft his eyes below:

The cord flides fwiftly through his glowing hands,
And (quick as lightning) on the deck he ftands.

So the fweet lark, high-pois'd in air,
Shuts close his pinions to his breast
(If, chance, his mate's fhrill call he hear),
And drops at once into her neft.

The nobleft Captain in the British fleet
Might envy William's lip thofe kiffes fweet.

O Sufan, Sufan, lovely dear,

My vows fhall ever true remain ; Let me kifs off that falling tear;

We only part to meet again.

Change, as ye lift, ye winds; my heart fhall be
The faithful compass that ftill points to thee.
Believe not what the landmen say,

Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind.
They'll tell thee, failors, when away,
In every port a mistress find:

Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so,
For thou art present wherefoe'er I go.

If to fair India's coaft we fail,

Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright,
Thy breath is Africk's fpicy gale,
Thy skin is ivory fo white.

Thus every beauteous object that I view,
Wakes in my foul fome charm of lovely Sue.
Though battle call me from thy arms,
Let not my pretty Sufan mourn;
Though cannons roar, yet, fafe from harms,
William fhall to his Dear return.

Love turns afide the balls that round me fly,
Left precious tears fhould drop from Sufan's eye.
The boatswain gave the dreadful word,

The fails their fwelling bosom spread;
No longer must she stay aboard:

They kifs'd, the figh'd, he hung his head. Her leffening boat unwilling rows to land : Adieu! fhe cries; and wav'd her lily hand.

A BAL

A

BALLAD,

FROM THE WHAT-D'YE-CALL-IT.

WAS when the feas were roaring

'TWA

With hollow blafts of wind;

A damfel lay deploring,

All on a rock reclin'd.

Wide o'er the foaming billows

She caft a wistful look;

Her head was crown'd with willows,
That trembled o'er the brook.

Twelve months are gone and over,
And nine long tedious days.
Why didft thou, venturous lover,
Why didft thou trust the seas ?
Ceafe, cease, thou cruel Ocean,
And let my lover rest:
Ah! what's thy troubled motion
To that within my breast?

The merchant, robb'd of pleasure,
Sees tempefts in defpair;
But what's the lofs of treasure,

To lofing of my dear?

Should you fome coaft be laid on,

Where gold and diamonds grow, You'd find a richer maiden,

But none that loves

you

fo.

S 2

How

That lurk beneath the deep, To wreck the wandering lover, And leave the maid to weep.

All melancholy lying,

Thus wail'd the for her dear;
Repay'd each blast with fighing,
Each billow with a tear;
When o'er the white wave stooping,
His floating corpse she spy'd;
Then, like a lily drooping,

She bow'd her head, and dy'd.

THE LADY'S LAMENTATION.

A BALL A D.

PHYLLIDA, that lov'd to dream

In the grove, or by the stream;
Sigh'd on velvet pillow.

What, alas! fhould fill her head,
But a fountain, or a mead,

Water and a willow?

Love in cities never dwells,
He delights in rural cells

Which fweet woodbine covers.

24

What