And what did fhe do then,
I am fure you'll think it right,
She bade the honest lad good day,
She bade the Nuns good night:
Tenderly the liften'd to all he had to fay,

Then jump'd into his arms, and fo they ran away,
And they fung fweetly Smalilou, &c.

THE STREAMLET THAT FLOW'D.

THE ftreamlet that flow'd round her cot,
All the charms, all the charms of my Emily knew:
How oft has its courfe been forgot,

While it paus'd, while it paus'd her dear image to woo.

Believe me, the fond filver tide,

Knew from whence it deriv'd the fair prize:

For filently, fwelling with pride,

It reflected her back to the skies.

A POST UNDER GOVERNMENT.

HERE's Phelim O'Connaught from Dublin com'd over,
To fnug little England his fortune to try,

And of honestly thriving the art to discover,

For fome folks have Luck, and why shouldn't I?
For I had a father, as well as my betters,

Who taught me to write and to rade and to fpell,
So determin'd to be a complete man of letters,
I turn'd penny poftman and live by my bell;
With my ring a ding dooraling whack botheration,
I bring 'em all down wid the found of my

bell.

And as no honeft man wears the coat of a rogue, Sir,
By my confcience of mine, they can say no fuch thing;
If they did, they would find it too much on the brogue, Sir,
Because, do ye fee, mine belongs to the king:

So I lade a fnug life as a man can defire,

My confcience is clear, I'm in nobody's debt;

Then I wear a cockade, and pray who can look higher,
And as for my fortune it's only to get.

Wid my ring a ding, &c.

And then palliluh! it wou'd make any Jew fick,
To hear your Italians squeak, quaver and growl;
When they know there'sno odds 'twixt my bell & their music,
Than between a Dutch jig and an Irish howl:

From my Lord to my Lady, when parted asunder,
If I bring a letter, it's true on my life;

Says my Lord, that damn'd bell is as loud as the thunder,

And puts me in mind of the tongue of

my wife.

Wid my ring a ding, &c.

D

THE CHERRY GIRL.

SWEET cowflips I cry, and ground ivy I fell,
And round about London am known mighty well;
But when my fweet cowflips no longer abound,
I cry my fweet cherries a penny a pound.

My green nonpareils through the winter I cry,
With fine golden pippins for those that will buy;
But when the warm season of summer comes round,
I cry my fweet cherries a penny a pound.

I rife with the lark and to market repair,

And the choiceft of fruit in my barrow I bear:

With full honest weight, and they're all round and found, I cry my fweet cherries a penny a pound.

THE LITTLE FARTHING RUSH-LIGHT

SIR Solomon Simons when he did wed,

Blufh'd black as a crow, his fair lady did blush light, The clock ftruck twelve, they were both tuck'd in bed, In the chimney a rush-light,

A little farthing rush-light,

Fal lal lal la,

A little farthing rush-light.

Sir Solomon gave to his lady a nudge,

Cries he, Lady Simons, there's vaftly too much light; Then, Sir Solomon, fays fhe, to get up you can't grudge And blow out the rush-light,

A little farthing rufh-light,
Fal lal lal la,

A little farthing rush-light.

Sir Solomon then out of bed pops

his toes,

And vastly he fwore, and very much did curfe light,
And then to the chimney Sir Solomon he goes,
And he puff'd at the rush-light,

The little farthing rush-light,

Fal lal lal la

The little farthing rush-light.

Lady Simons got out in her night cap so neat,
And over the carpet my lady did brush light,
And there Sir Solomon fhe found in a heat,
Puffing at the rush light:

Then the puff'd at the rush-light,

But neither of them both

Cou'd blow out the rush-light.

Sir Solomon and Lady, their breath quite gone,
Rang the bells in a rage, determin'd to crush light
Half a-fleep in his fhirt then up came John,

And he puff'd at the ruth-light;

The little farthing rush-light;

But neither of the three

Cou'd blow out the rufh-light.

Cook, coachee, men and maids, very near all in buff,

Came and fwore, in their lives they never met with fuch

light,

And each of the family, by turns, had a puff

At the little farthing rush-light;

The curft farthing rush-light,
But none of the family †,

Cou'd blow out the rush-light.

The watchman, at laft, went by crying-one,
Here vatchman's come up, than you we might on vorse

light

Then up came the watchman-the bus'ness was done-
For he turn'd down the rufh-light;

The little farthing rush-light,

Fal lal lal lal la,

So he put out the rush-light.

The above family were all wry-mouth'd,

ARRISTIPPUS' RULES.

LET care be a franger to each jovial foul,
Who, Ariftippus like, can his paffions controul:
Of wifeft philofophers wifest was he,

Who attentive to ease, let his mind still be free:
The prince, peer, or peasant to him were the fame,
For pleas'd, he was pleafing to all where he came,
But ftill turn'd his back on contention and ftrife,
Refolving to live all the days of his life.