CORIN'S FATE. CORIN, most unhappie swaine, Whither wilt thou drive thy flocke? Wolfes and beares doe kepe the woodes; Yet to shunne all plaine, and hill, How may then reliefe be found ? Such is hapless Corin's fate: Since my waywarde love begunne, Equall doubts begett debate What to seeke, and what to shunne. Spare to speake, and spare to speed; Yet to speake will move disdaine : If I see her not I bleed, Yet her sight augments my paine. What may then poor Corin doe? Tell me, shepherds, quickly tell, For to linger thus in woe Is the lover's sharpest hell. Percy's Reliques. A SONG TO THE LUTE IN MUSICKE. MODERNISED. WHERE griping griefs the heart would wound, There Music, with her silver sound, Of troubled minds, in ev'ry sore, In joy it makes our mirth abound, The gods by music have their praise; In seas, whom pirates would destroy, O heav'nly gift, that rules the mind, To comfort man, whom cares would nip! Ibid. JEMMY DAWSON. James Dawson was one of the Manchester rebels, who was hanged, drawn, and quartered, on Kennington Common, July 30, 1746. COME listen to my mournful tale, Ye tender hearts, and lovers dear; And thou, dear Kitty, peerless maid, Young Dawson was a gallant youth, One tender maid she lov'd him dear, But curse on party's hateful strife, Their colours and their sash he wore, How pale was then his true-love's cheek, When Jemmy's sentence reach'd her ear! For never yet did Alpine snows So pale, nor yet so chill appear. With fault'ring voice she weeping said, "Yet might sweet mercy find a place, "The gracious prince that gives him life Would crown a never-dying flame, And every tender babe I bore Should learn to lisp the giver's name. "But tho', dear youth! thou should'st be dragg'd To yonder ignominious tree, Thou shalt not want a faithful friend To share thy bitter fate with thee." O then her mourning coach was call'd, She had not lov'd her fav'rite more. She follow'd him, prepar'd to view Distorted was that blooming face, And sever'd was that beauteous neck, |