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And see, the matin lark mistakes,

He quits the tufted green :

Fond bird! 'tis not the morning breaks,
'Tis Kate of Aberdeen!

Now lightsome o'er the level mead,
Where midnight fairies rove,
Like them the jocund dance we'll lead,
Or tune the reed to love.

For see, the rosy May draws nigh!
She claims a virgin queen ;
And hark, the happy shepherds cry,
'Tis Kate of Aberdeen!

Cunningham.

THE MAD MAID'S SONG.

GOOD-MORROW to the day so fair;

Good-morrow, sir, to you;
Good-morrow to mine own torn hair,
Bedabbled with the dew.

Good-morrow to this primrose too;
Good-morrow to each maid,

That will with flow'rs the tomb bestrew,
Wherein my love is laid.

I'll seek him there! I know, ere this,
The cold, cold earth doth shake him;

But I will go, or send a kiss

By you, sir, to awake him.

Pray, hurt him not; though he be dead
He knows well who do love him;
And who with green-turfs rear his head,
And who do rudely move him.

He's soft and tender-pray, take heed—

With bands of cowslips bind him, And bring him home-but 'tis decreed That I shall never find him.

Herrick.

THE MAID IN BEDLAM.

ONE morning very early, one morning in the spring, I heard a maid in Bedlam, who mournfully did sing, Her chains she rattled on her hands, while sweetly thus sung she,

'I love my love, because I know my love loves me. 'O, cruel were his parents who sent my love to sea, And cruel, cruel was the ship that bore my love from me!

Yet I love his parents, since they're his, although they've ruin'd me, [me. And I love my love, because I know my love loves 'O, should it please the pitying pow'rs to call me to the sky,

I'd claim a guardian angel's charge, around my love to fly;

To guard him from all dangers, how happy should

I be! [me. For I love my love, because I know my love loves 'I'll make a strawy garland, I'll make it wondrous

fine,

With roses, lilies, daisies, I'll mix the eglantine, And I'll present it to my love, when he returns

from sea; [me. For I love my love, because I know my love loves

'O, if I were a little bird to build upon his breast, Or if I were a nightingale to sing my love to rest! To gaze upon his lovely eyes all my reward should be!

[me!

For I love my love, because I know my love loves 'O, if I were an eagle to soar into the sky! I'd gaze around with piercing eyes where I my love might spy:

But ah, unhappy maiden! that love you ne'er shall

see:

[me.'

Yet I love my love, because I know my love loves

Anonymous.

COLIN TO THE WILLOW.

[plain,

To the brook and the willow, that heard him com-
Ah willow! willow!
Poor Colin went weeping, and told him his pain.
Ah willow! willow! Ah willow! willow!
'Sweet stream,' he cried, 'sadly I'll teach thee to

flow,

And the waters shall rise to the brink with my woe.
All restless and painful my Celia now lies,
And counts the sad moments of time as it flies:
To the nymph, my heart's love, ye soft slumbers,

repair,

Spread your downy wings o'er her, and make her

your care;

Let me be left restless, mine eyes never close,
So the sleep that I lose give my dear one repose.
Sweet stream! if you chance by her pillow to creep,
Perhaps your soft murmurs may lull her to sleep:
But if I am doom'd to be wretched indeed,

And the loss of my charmer the fates have decreed,

Believe me, thon fair one, thou dear one, believe,
Few sighs to thy loss, and few tears will I give ;
One fate to thy Colin and thee shall betide,
And soon lay thy shepherd down by thy cold side.
Then glide, gentle brook, and to lose thyself haste,
Bear this to my willow; this verse is my last.
Ah willow! willow! Ah willow! willow!'
Rowe.

SALLY IN OUR ALLEY.

Of all the girls that are so smart,
There's none like pretty Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
There is no lady in the land,
Is half so sweet as Sally:
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.

Her father he makes cabbage-nets,
And through the streets doth cry 'em;
Her mother she sells laces long,

To such as please to buy 'em:
But sure such folks could ne'er forget
So sweet a girl as Sally!

She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.

When she is by, I leave my work,
(I love her so sincerely)
My master comes like any Turk,
And bangs me most severely:

But, let him bang his belly fall,

I'll bear it all for Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

Of all the days that's in the week,
I dearly love but one day;

And that's the day that comes betwixt
A Saturday and Monday.

For then I'm dress'd all in my best,

To walk abroad with Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.

My master carries me to church,
And often am I blamed,
Because I leave him in the lurch,
As soon as text is named:

I leave the church in sermon time,
And slink away to Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.

When Christmas comes about again,
Oh then I shall have money;

I'll hoard it up, and box it all,
I'll give it to my honey:

I would it were ten thousand pounds,
I'd give it all to Sally;

She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

My master and the neighbours all,
Make game of me and Sally;
And (but for her) I'd better be
A slave and row a galley;

,,

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