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A Song, p.51.

[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]

To the Tune of, The yellow-hair’d Laddie


YE shepherds and nymphs that adorn the gay plain, 

Approach from your sports and attend to my strain; 

Amongst all your number a lover so true, 

Was ne’er so undone, with such bless in his view. 


Was ever a nymph so hard-hearted as mine? 

She knows me sincere, and she sees how I pine, 

She does not disdain me, nor frown in her wrath, 

But calmly and mildly resigns me to death. 


She calls me her friend, but her lover denies: 

She smiles when I’m chearful, but hears not my sighs 

A bosom so flinty, so gentle an air, 

Inspires me with hope, and yet bids me despair! 


I fall at her feet, and implore her with tears: 

Her answer confounds, while her manner endears, 

When softly she tells me to hope no relief, 

My trembling lips bless her in spite of my grief. 


By night, while I slumber, still haunted with care, 

I start up in anguish, and sigh for the fair: 

The fair sleeps in peace, may she ever do so 

And only when dreaming imagine my wo. 


Then gaze at a distance, nor farther aspire, 

Nor thinks he shou’d love, whom she cannot admire: 

Hush all thy complaining, and dying her slave, 

Commend her to heaven, and thy self to the grave. 

Authors Unknown

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