THE CHARMS OF MELODY.
39
The Wine Vault.
CONTENTED I am, and contented I'll be;
For v.-hii can this v/orld more afford,
■ Than a girl that V. i!l fociably fit on my knee,
And a cellar that's plentcoufly flor'd ?
■Sec- ! my vault door is open, defcend ev'ry guefl.
Tap tliat raik, for the wine we will try ;
'Tis as f\A cet as the lips of your love, to your talle.
And as bright as her cheeks to your eye.
In a piece of flit-hoop I my candle have ftuck,
'Twill lig;ht us each bottle to hand ;
'1 he foot of my glals I have purpofely broke,
For I hate that a bumber fliould Hand.
.'Sound ih.1t pipe — 'tis in tune, and the binns are well
fill'd,
View that heap of Chamya'^rne in the rere ;
Thole bottles are Burgundy, fee how they're pii'd,
Like artillery, tier over tier
My cellar's my camp, and my foldiers my flafks.
All glorioufly lang'd in review ;
'When I caft my^eyes round, I confider my caflvs
As kingdoms I've got to fubdue.
. 'Tis my will, when I die, not a tear fhall be filed,
No hie jucet be grav'd on my Hone ;
But pour on my cofEn a bottle of red,
And fay, that my drinking is done.
G. A. Stevens.
The Fan.
FOR various purpofe ferves the fan ;
As thus — a decent blind,
.Between the flicks to p^eep at man,
Nor yet betray your mind.
Each adlion has a meaning plain,
I'efentment's in the fnap ;
A flirt e::prelTcs ftrong difdain,
Confent a gentle tap.
All palfions will the far. difclofe,
Afl modes of female art ;
And to advantage (weedy fhewS
The hand, if not the heart.
Tis folly's fceptre, firil defign'd
liy love's capricious boy.
Who knons how lightly all mankind
Are govern d by a toy.
Where fhall Celia fly, &c.
WHERE Ihall Cclia fly for fl.dter ?
In what fecret grove or cave?
'Sighs and fonnets fent to melt her,
From the young, the gay, the brave.
Tho' with prudifli airs fhe ftarch her,
Still flie longs, and ftiil flie burns :
'Cupid flioots like Hymen's archer,
Wherefoe'er the damfel turns.
Virtue, youth, good-fenfe and beauty,
(!f dilcretion guide us not)
Sometimes are the ruffian's booty,
Sometimes are the booby's lot;
Now they'ie purchas'd by the trader,
Now commanded by the peer ;
Now fome fubtle, mean invader.
Wins the heart, 'or gains the ear.
O difcretion ! thou'rt a jewel,
Or our grand-mamas miftake.
Stinting flame by bating fewel,
Always careful and awake.
Would you keep your ))earls from tramplcrs.,
Weigh the licence, weigh the banns ;
Mark my fong upon your famplers.
Wear it on your knots and fans.
Blithe Jockey.
TJLI "HE Jockey, young and gay,
■*"* It all my heart's delight ;
He's all my talk by day.
And all my dreams by night.
If from the lad I be,
'Tis v.'inter then with me ;
But when he tarries here,
'Tis fumraer all the year.
When I and Jockey met
Firfl: on the flow'ry dale,
Right fweetly me he tret.
And love was all his tale.
You are the lafs, fays he.
That flaw my heart frae me;
O eafe mc of my pain,
And never fliew difdain.
I'm glad when Jockey comes.
Sad v.'hen he gangs away ;
'Tis night when Jockey glooms.
But when he Imiles 'tis d.iy.
His fuit I ill deny'd.
He kifs'd and I comply 'd ;
Sae Jockey promis'd me.
That he would faithful be.
Well can my Jockey kyth
His love and courtefie ;
He made my heart quite blithe,
When he firft fpohe to me.
V, hen our eyes meet I pant,
I colour, figh, and faint ;
What lafs that would be kind,
Can better fpeak her mind ?
Say, little foolilh, fluttering thing.
O AY, little foolilh, fluttering thing,
'<-' Vy'hither, ah ! M-hither would you wing
Your airy flight ?
Stay here ar;', ling.
Your mlftrefs to delight.
No, no, no, .
Sweet Robin, you fhall not go !
Where, lifle wanton, could you be.
Half fo hsppy as v/ith me ? Padlock..
The Waterman.
AND did you not hear of a jolly young waterman,
Who at Black- Friars Bridge us'd far to ply ?
He feather'd his oars with fuch flcill and dexterity,
Winning each heart, and delighting each eye :
Fe look'd fo neat, and row'd fo fteadily.
The maidens all flock'rl to his boat fo readily ;
And theyey'd die young rogue with fo charming an
air.
That this waterman ne'er was in want of a fare.
Vv''hat fights of fine folks he oft row'd in his wherry,
'Twas clean'd out fo nice and fo painted withal!
He was always iivft oars, when the fine city ladies
In a party to Ranelagh went, or Vauxhall.
And oftentimes would they be giggling and leering,
But 'twas all one to Tom, their gibing and jeering ;
F'or loving, or liking, he little did care,
■For this waterman ne'er was in -want of a fare.
And yet, but to fee how- ftrangely things happen ;
As he row'd along, thinking of nothing at all,
He was ply'd by a damfel fo lovely and charming.
That flie fmil'd, and lb ilraightv>'a:y in love he did
fall. ?.
And would thib young damfel but banifh his forrow.
He'd wed her lo-night, before it was morrow :
Then how fliould this watevman ever know cave,
VV hen he's raan;y'd, and never in want of a farei