And for our sweet refreshments The cuckoo and the nightingale High trolollie, lollie, lol; high trolollie, lee; Then care away, and wend along with me. This is not half the happiness High trolollie, lollie, lol; high troiollie, lee; Then care away, and wend along with me. AMINTOR'S WELL-A-DAY. Dr. R. HUGHES. From Lawes's Third Book of Ayres, 1653. CHLORIS, now thou art fled away, Is His oaten pipe, that in thy praise The maypole, where thy little feet G Upon these banks you used to thread COLIN'S COMPLAINT. NICHOLAS ROWE, born 1673, died 1718. DESPAIRING beside a clear stream Alas! silly swain that I was, Thus sadly complaining, he cried, When first I beheld that fair face, 'Twere better by far I had died. She talk'd, and I bless'd her dear tongue; When she smil'd, 'twas a pleasure too great; I listen'd, and cried, when she sung, Was nightingale ever so sweet? Ilow foolish was I to believe She could doat on so lowly a clown, Or that her fond heart would not grieve To forsake the fine folk of the town: To think that a beauty so gay, So kind and so constant would prove, Or go clad, like our maidens, in grey, Or live in a cottage on love! What though I have skill to complain, Though the Muses my temples have crown'd; What though, when they hear my soft strain, The virgins sit weeping around? Ah, Colin! thy hopes are in vain; All you, my companions so dear, Forbear to accuse the false maid. If while my hard fate I sustain, In her breast any pity is found, Let her come with the nymphs of the plain, Is to shade me with cypress and yew; Then to her new love let her go, And frolic it all the long day: His ghost shall glide over the green. This song is usually sung to the ancient melody enti led "Grim King of the Ghosts." The author is supposed to have alluded in this pastoral to his own disappointment in gaining the affections of the Countess Dowager of Warwick, afterwards married to Joseph Addison. AS I WALKED FORTH ONE SUMMER'S DAY. From PLAYFORD's " Airs and Dialogues,” 1676, As I walk'd forth one summer's day Where oft in tears a maid would cry, Then o'er the grassy fields she'd walk, 66 Such flowers as gave the sweetest scent She sigh'd, and wept, and wrung her hands; 66 When she had filled her apron full The scented flowers to rest her head; Then down she laid, nor sigh'd nor spake,— THE SUN WAS SUNK BENEATH THE HILL. Anonymous, but often attributed to JOHN GAY, THE sun was sunk beneath the hill, Who seeks to pluck the fragrant rose I have no herds, no fleecy care, How wretched is the faithful youth, Since women's hearts are bought and sold! They ask no vows of sacred truth; Whene'er they sigh, they sigh for gold. Gold can the frowns of scorn remove, But I, alas! have nought but love. To buy the gems of India's coast, What wealth, what treasure can suffice? Yet India's shore shall never boast The living lustre in thine eyes; For these the world too cheap would Then, Sylvia, since nor gems nor ore prove; Than glittering gems-a soul sincere: Let riches meaner beauties move; Who pays thy worth, must pay in love. |