The Jester's Magazine: Or, The Monthly Merrymaker

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Bright Sacharifla boafts unrivall'd
Sway;

Whilft Amoret, with fofter Splendor fhines,

Mild as the Ev'ning Star at Close of
Day.

The Mufe with equal Juftice tunes the Lyre,

Pleas'd to behold the Sidneys Charm

in you:

Let others, by fond Arts and empty Airs,

Hope with a fond Preeminence to

reign;

True Merit a more lafting Value bears,

Scorning the cheap Applauses of the Vain.

Bleft with good Senfe, with Elegance,

with Eafe,

With ev'ry polish'd Art, and virtuous Grace,

That envy'd Secret you have found, to pleafe:

Confeft, the foremoft Beauties of the Place.

But whilft from Fame you modeftly say, thou God Apollo, is it fit

retire,

You only by fuperior Skill fubdue.

That fo much Beauty yield fo little Wit!

TUNBRIGIENSIS.
A Col-

A Collection of Favourite New Songs.

SONG I.

THRO' THE WOOD LADDIE.
Sung by Mifs Wright, at Vauxhall.
Sawney, why leav't thou thỵ
Nelly to mourn?

Thy Prefence cou'd ease me, When naething can please me; Now dowie I figh on the Bank of the Burn,

Or thro' the Wood, Laddie, until
thou return.

Tho' Woods now are bonny, and
Mornings are clear,

While Lav rocks are finging,
And Primroses fpringing,

Yet nane of them pleases mine Eye or
mine Ear,

So with Moderns we find,

That this Vein of the Mind, Reigns from Monarchs quite down to

the Clod,

And tho Palaces firike,
Yet the Cottage alike,

Has its Pleafures because it is Odd.

E'en the Prude, in herWay,
Cries, each Fool has his Day;
So for once I will follow the Mode:
Let us quit the dull Sage;
And fince Cares don't engage,
I'll be Chearful--because it is Odd.

Nay the Wife, who from Home
Scarce can venture to roam,

For this once too will venture Abroad;
And, tho' Husbands will rule,
Yet fhe cries, I'm a Fool,

When thro' the Wood, Laddie, ye If to Day I can't dare to be Odd.

dinna appear.

Sony, fald he, one Ki's ar parting.
ing then my flender Waifte,

d. Yn eager Arms he me embrac'd:
Kiss'd

Kifs'd me, call'd on Heav'n above,
To record, to record his conftantLove.
Partially I cy'd him,
Faintly I deny'd him,
My Tongue bely'd my Heart;
His Shape, his Face,
And manly Grace,
Strongly took my Lover's Part.
This Suit approving,
He my Doubts removing,
With Ardor reply'd;
I fly to bring,

The Wedding, Wedding Ring,
Lovely Jenny is my Bride.
Hopeless Lovers mind, mind what I
fing,

No Cure, no Cure for Difdain, like a Kifs and a Ring.

SONG IV.

A TRIO. Sung at Vauxhall.
LY hence, grim Melancholy's
Train!
Hence, wafting Thought and Years
of Pain!

What to us is Age and Care,
Eyes of Grief, and Looks of Fear?
Join the laughter-loving Train;
This is Pleasure's boundless Reign.

Mind not what the Stoics fay;
Life is only for a Day:
Banish far Reflection's Pow'r;
Lose not one important Hour:
Fly the meagre hideous Train;
This is Pleafure's boundless Reign.

Make the most of Beauty's Pride;
Youth and Beauty foon fubfide:
Courted yield-while yet you may,
Cupid elfe will fly away:

Join the fportive harmless Train;
This is Picafure's golden Reign.

Bacchus all his Treasure lends,
(Mirth and Wine are conftant Friends)
Lifts on high the human Soul:
Dread no Poifon in the Bowl.
Seek the jovial rofy Train;
This is Pleasure's boundless Reign.
In the Meadows fafely ftray,
Innocence fhall guard the Way;

And by Moon-light, on the Green,
View the Fairies with their Queen :
Go where Love directs the Train ;
For 'tis Pleasure's golden Reign.

Envy's Snakes, all-murd'ring War,
With Phantom Honour, hence are far;
Hope, and Peace, and Joy fincere,
And Love, maintain their Revels here;
Hafte to join the feftive Train;
This is Pleafure's golden Reign.

Nor to fcornful Airs inclin'd,
Know the Season to be kind :
What would all your Beauty do,
Should Shepherds once neglect to