THE LASS OF RICHMOND HILL. ON Richmond Hill there lives a lass More bright than May-day morn, Whose charms all other maids surpass, A rose without a thorn. This lass so neat, with smiles so sweet, Has won my right good-will; I'd crowns resign to call her mine, Sweet lass of Richmond Hill. Ye zephyrs gay, that fan the air, How happy will the shepherd be Who calls this nymph his own! O, may her choice be fixed on me! Mine's fixed on her alone. UPTON. By dae ar night, the best ov all, To zee my Fanny's smilén fiace; An' dere the stiately trees da grow, A-rockén as the win' da blow, While she da sweetly sleep below, In the stillness o' the night. An' dere at evemen I da goo, A-hoppén auver ghiates an' bars, By twinklen light o' winter stars, When snow da clumper to my shoe; An' zometimes we da slyly catch A chat, an hour upon the stratch, An' piart wi' whispers at the hatch, In the stillness o' the night. An' zometimes she da goo to zome Young nâighbours' housen down the pliace, An' I da wish a vield a mile, WILLIAM BARNES. MARY MORISON. O MARY, at thy window be! It is the wished, the trysted hour! That make the miser's treasure poor: Yestreen when to the trembling string I sat, but neither heard nor saw : O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace Wha for thy sake wad gladly dee? A thought ungentle canna be The thought o' Mary Morison. ROBERT BURNS. IN THE STILLNESS O' THE NIGHT. DORSET DIALECT. Ov all the housen o' the pliace Ther 's Qone wher I da like to call, O MISTRESS MINE. O MISTRESS mine, where are you roaming? Every wise man's son doth know. What is love? 't is not hereafter; SHAKESPEARE THE LOW-BACKED CAR. WHEN first I saw sweet Peggy, A low-backed car she drove, and sat But when that hay was blooming grass, But just rubbed his owld poll, O, I'd rather own that car, sir, Than a coach and four, and gold galore, With my arm around her waist, SAMUEL LOVER. SALLY IN OUR ALLEY. Of all the girls that are so smart Her father he makes cabbage-nets, And through the streets does cry 'em ; Her mother she sells laces long To such as please to buy 'em ; When she is by I leave my work, Of all the days that's in the week And that's the day that comes betwixt To walk abroad with Sally; My master carries me to church, I leave the church in sermon-time, She is the darling of my heart, When Christmas comes about again, I'll give it to my honey; O, would it were ten thousand pound! I'd give it all to Sally; For she's the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley. Be what it may the time of day, the place be|O, might we live together in lofty palace hall, Where joyful music rises, and where scarlet curtains fall; where it will, Sweet looks of Mary Donnelly, they bloom before me still. so fine, It's rolling down upon her neck, and gathered O, LUVE will venture in where it daurna weel be in a twine. seen, O, luve will venture in where wisdom ance has been! The dance o' last Whit-Monday night exceeded But I will down yon river rove amang the woods all before; sae green: And a' to pu' a posie to my ain dear May. The primrose I will pu', the firstling o' the year, And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. I'll pu' the budding rose, when Phœbus peeps in view, For it's like a balmy kiss o' her sweet bonnie mou'; The hyacinth's for constancy, wi' its unchanging blue: And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. The lily it is pure, and the lily it is fair, take away: And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. The woodbine I will pu', when the e'ening star is near, And the diamond draps o' dew shall be her een sae clear; The higher I exalt you, the lower I'm cast down. If some great lord should come this way and see The violet's for modesty, which weel she fa's to your beauty bright, And you to be his lady, I'd own it was but right. wear: And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. Wilt thou deign the wreath to wear, They are not flowers of Pride, Can they fear thy frowns the while Here's the lily of the vale, That perfumed the morning gale, All so spotless and so pale, if I dare so name My esteem for thee. Surely flowers can bear no blame, Here's the violet's modest blue, That 'neath hawthorns hides from view, My gentle Mary Lee, While it thinks of thee. My charming Mary Lee; So I've brought the flowers to plead, Here's a wild rose just in bud; My bonny Mary Lee! I could find for thee. To speak unless the flower Can make excuse for me. LOVE IS A SICKNESS. LOVE is a sickness full of woes,. All remedies refusing; A plant that most with cutting grows, More we enjoy it, more it dies ; Love is a torment of the mind, A tempest everlasting; And Jove hath made it of a kind, More we enjoy it, more it dies ; LOVE. For kings bethink them what the state require, Where shepherds, careless, carol by the fire: Ah then, ah then, If country love such sweet desires gain, He kisseth first, then sits as blithe to eat For kings have often fears when they sup, If country loves such sweet desires gain, Upon his couch of straw he sleeps as sound For cares cause kings full oft their sleep to spill, If country loves such sweet desires gain, Thus with his wife he spends the year as blithe For kings have wars and broils to take in hand, If country loves such sweet desires gain, What lady would not love a shepherd swain ? ROBERT GREENE. TELL ME, MY HEART, IF THIS BE LOVE. WHEN Delia on the plain appears, Whene'er she speaks, my ravished ear If she some other swain commend, When she is absent, I no more When fond of power, of beauty vain, GEORGE LORD LYTTELTON. ECHOES. How sweet the answer Echo makes |