What can we compare with thy voice,
And what with thy humour fo fweet?
No mufic can bless with such joys;
Sure angels are just fo complete.

Fair bloffom of every delight,

Whose beauties ten thousands outfhine,
Thy sweets shall be laftingly bright,
Being mixt with fo many divine.

Ye powers! who have given such charms
To Eliza, your image below,

O fave her from all human harms,
And make her hours happily flow.

TO CALISTA.

SHE SUNG; THE YOUTH ATTENTION GAVE."

SHE fung; the youth attention gave,
And charms on charms efpies,
Then, all in raptures, falls a flave
Both to her voice and eyes!

So fpoke and fmil'd the eastern maid,
Like thine, feraphic were her charms,
That in Circaffia's vineyards ftray'd,
And bleft the wifeft monarch's arms.

VOL. II.

R

A thoufand

A thousand fair of high desert
Strave to enchant the amorous king,
But the Circaffian gain'd his heart,

And taught the royal hand to fing.
Califta thus our fang infpires,

And claims the smooth and highest lays; But while each charm our bofom fires, Words feem too few to found her praise.

Her mind in ev'ry grace complete,
To paint, furpaffes human skill;
Her majefty, mixt with the fweet,
Let feraphs fing her if they will:
Whilst wond'ring, with a ravish'd eye,
We all that's perfect in her view,
Viewing a fister of the sky,

To whom an adoration 's due.

GIVE ME A LASS WITH A LUMP OF LAND.

GIE me a lass with a lump of land,
And we for life fhall gang the gither;
Tho' daft or wife I'll never demand,

Or black or fair it maks na whether.
I'm aff with wit, and beauty will fade,

And blood alane is no worth a fhilling; But the that 's rich her market 's made, For ilka charm about her is killing.

Gi'e me a lass with a lump of land,

And in my bofom I'll hug my treasure; Gin I had anes her gear in my hand,

Shou'd love turn dowf, it will find pleasure. Laugh on wha likes, but there 's my hand, I hate with poortith, tho' bonny, to meddle; Unless they bring cash, or a lump of land,

They'se never get me to dance to their fiddle.

There's meikle good love in bands and bags, And filler and gowd 's a fweet complexion; But beauty, and wit, and virtue in rags,

Have tint the art of gaining affection.

Love tips his arrows with woods and parks,
And caftles, and riggs, and moors, and
meadows;

And naithing can catch our modern sparks,
But well-tocher'd laffes, or jointur'd widows.

LOCHABER NO MORE.

FAREWELL to Lochaber, and farewell my Jean, Where heartfome with thee I've mony day been; For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more, We'll may be return to Lochaber no more. These tears that I shed they are a' for my dear, And no for the dangers attending on wear, Tho' bore on rough feas to a far bloody shore, May be to return to Lochaber no more.

Tho' hurricanes arife, and rife ev'ry wind, They'll ne'er make a tempest like that in my mind; Tho' loudeft of thunder on louder waves roar, That's naithing like leaving my love on the shore. To leave thee behind me my heart is fair pain'd; By ease that's inglorious no fame can be gain'd; And beauty and love 's the reward of the brave, And I must deferve it before I can crave.

Then glory, my Jeany, man plead my excufe; Since honour commands me, how can I refuse; Without it I ne'er can have merit for thee,

And without thy favour I 'd better not be.

I

gae then, my lass, to win honour and fame,

And if I fhould luck to come gloriously hame, I'll bring a heart to thee with love running o'er, And then I'll leave thee and Lochaber no more.

VIRTUE AND WIT:

THE PRESERVATIVE OF LOVE AND BEAUTY.

CONFESS thy love, fair blufhing maid;
For fince thine eyes confenting,
Thy fafter thoughts are a' betray'd,
And nafays no worth tenting.
Why aims thou to oppose thy mind,
With words thy wish denying?
Since nature made thee to be kind,
Reafon allows complying.

Nature and reafon's joint consent
Make love a facred bleffing;
Then happily that time is spent,
That's war'd on kind careffing.

Come then, my Katie, to my arms,
I'll be na mair a rover,

But find out heav'n in a' thy charms,

And prove a faithful lover.

SHE.

What you defign by nature's law,

Is fleeting inclination;

That willy-wifp bewilds us a'

By its infatuation: