 | Songs, comic and satyrical |  |
A SIMPLE PASTORAL.
Aurora, lady gay, hides her face in blushes;
Budding, blanching May, whitens hawthorn bushes.
See the clouds transparent,—see the sunshine rising;
London rakes, I warrant, wou'd think this surprizing.
Budding, blanching May, whitens hawthorn bushes.
See the clouds transparent,—see the sunshine rising;
London rakes, I warrant, wou'd think this surprizing.
62
See the sturdy swains, trenching-ploughs are holding:
Some on pebbly plains, last night's pens unfolding.
How the swine-yards woo!—how the herds are lowing!
While the pigeons coo, barn-door fowls are crowing.
Some on pebbly plains, last night's pens unfolding.
How the swine-yards woo!—how the herds are lowing!
While the pigeons coo, barn-door fowls are crowing.
Here are Flora's dressings, air-fill'd perfume here is,
Here Pomona's blessings,—here the gifts of Ceres.
Hark! the tinkling rills,—and the bubbling fountains;
Cascade o'er the hills,—tumbling down the mountains.
Here Pomona's blessings,—here the gifts of Ceres.
Hark! the tinkling rills,—and the bubbling fountains;
Cascade o'er the hills,—tumbling down the mountains.
See! at welcome wakes, shew-folks fire-eating;
While, with ale and cakes, Jack his Girl is treating.
Hark! the distant drum,—lasses all look frighted;
But, when soldiers come, girls how you're delighted!
While, with ale and cakes, Jack his Girl is treating.
Hark! the distant drum,—lasses all look frighted;
But, when soldiers come, girls how you're delighted!
Night her shutters closing, all the village still is,
Save where, unreposing, Captain calls on Phillis:
While she lets her spark in, shooting stars are sailing,
Farmer's dogs are barking,—comets dreadful trailing.
Save where, unreposing, Captain calls on Phillis:
While she lets her spark in, shooting stars are sailing,
Farmer's dogs are barking,—comets dreadful trailing.
For to scholars thinking, omens must be telling;
Whether worlds are sinking, or if waists are swelling.
But, my lads and lasses, mind a friend's advisings,
Let us fill our glasses—to our falls and risings.
Whether worlds are sinking, or if waists are swelling.
But, my lads and lasses, mind a friend's advisings,
Let us fill our glasses—to our falls and risings.
| Songs, comic and satyrical | |