A Song, pp.229-231.

[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]

On our Ladies being dressed in SCOTS Manufactory. at a publick Assembly


To the Tune of, O’er the Hills and far away


LET meaner beauties use their art, 

And range both Indies for their dress. 

Our fair can captivate the heart, 

In native weeds, nor look the less, 

More bright unborrowed beauties shine, 

The artless sweetness of each face 

Sparkle with lustres more divine, 

When freed of every foreign grace. 


The tawny nymph on scorching plains, 

May use the aid of gems and paint, 

Deck with brocade and Tyrian stains 

Features of ruder form and taint. 

What Caledonian ladies wear, 

Or from the lint or woolen twine, 

Adorn’d by all their sweets, appear 

What e’er we can imagine fine. 


Apparel neat becomes the fair, 

The dirty dress may lovers cool, 

But clean, our maids need have no care, 

If clade in linnen, silk, or wool. 

T’ adore Myrtilla, who can cease? 

Her active charms our praise demand, 

Clad in a mantua, from the fleece, 

Spun by her own delightful hand. 


Who can behold Calista’s eyes, 

Her breast, her cheek, and snowy arms, 

And mind what artists can devise, 

To rival more superior charms? 

Compar’d with those, the diamond’s dull, 

Launs, satins, and the velvets fade, 

The soul with her atractions full, 

Can never be by these betray’d. 


SAPHIRA, all o’er native sweets, 

Not the false glare of dress regards, 

Her wit, her character completes, 

Her smile her lovers sighs rewards, 

When such first beauties lead the way, 

The inferior rank will follow soon; 

Then arts no longer shall decay, 

But trade encouraged be in tune. 


Millions of fleeces shall be wove, 

And flax that on the valeys blooms, 

Shall make the naked nations love, 

And bless the labours of our looms; 

We have enough, nor want from them, 

But trifles hardly worth our care, 

Yet for these trifles let them claim 

What food and cloath we have to spare. 


How happy’s Scotland in her fair! 

Her amiable daughters shall, 

By acting thus with virtuous care, 

Again the golden age recal: 

Enjoying them, Edina ne’er 

Shall miss a court; but soon advance 

In wealth, when thus the lov’d appear 

Around the scenes, or in the dance. 


Barbarity shall yield to sense, 

And lazy pride to useful arts, 

When such dear angels, in defence 

Of virtue thus engage their hearts. 

Blest guardians of our joys and wealth, 

True fountains of delight and love, 

Long bloom your charms, fixt be your health, 

Till tir’d with earth, you mount above. 

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