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Help me, ye Gypfies, bring him home again, And to a conftant Lafs give back her Swain. If there wants Nature and Humour here, despair of finding it in Defcription; though equally excellent, and equal to any Thing of the Kind we ever met with, is the Defcription of the fuppos'd Witch by Bauldy, in the Gentle Shepherd of Mr. Allan Ramfay; he, certainly, as a Paftoral Writer, exceeds Mr. Gay, (though may-be only equal to him in this Place) not only as he has a great many Characters and more Scope, but even in his Diction and Choice of Terms. The following Quotation is exceeding fine, it declares a great many finish'd Strokes from a very Mafterly Hand:

O Peggy, fweeter than the dawning Day, Sweeter than a gowany b Glens or new-mawn Hay: Blyther than Lambs that frisk out-oer the Knows, Straighter than ought that in the Forest grows: Her Een the cleareft Blob of Dew outfhines; The Lilly in her Breaft its Beauty tines. [Een, Her Legs, her Arms, her Cheeks, her Mouth, her Will be my c Deid, that will be fhortly feen! For Pate loos her,waes me! and fhe loes Pate; And I with Neps, by fome unlucky Fate, Made a d daft Vow!-O! but ane be a Beaft, That makes rash Aiths, 'till he's afore the Priest. I darna speak my Mind, elfe a' the three, Bot e Doubt, wad prove ilk ane my Enemy. 'Tis f fair to g thole-I'll try fome Witchcraft Art, To brak with ane, and win the other's Heart. Here Maufy lives, a Witch, that for sma' Price, Can caft herb Cantraips, and give me Advice, She can o'ercaft the Night, and cloud the Moon, And mak the Deils obedient to her Crune.

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VOL. II.

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a Full of Daifies. b Vales. c Death. d rash. e without. f fore. g fuffer.

Spells.

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At Midnight Hours o'er the Kirk-yard fhe raves,.
And a howks uncriften'd b Weans out of their
Boils up their Livers in a Warlock's Pow; [Graves;
Rins witherfhins about the Humlock Low;
And feven Times does her Pray'rs backwards pray,
Till Plotcock comes with Lumps of Lapland Clay,
Mixt with the Venom of black Taids and Snakes.
Of this dunfonly Pictures aft fhe makes
Of any ane the hates;-and gats expire
With flaw and racking Pains afore a Fire,
Stuck fou of Princs; the devilifh Pictures melt,
The Pain by Fowk they répréfent is felt.
And yonder's Maufe: Ay, ay, the kens fou weil,
When ane like me comes rinning to the Deil.
She and her Cat fit beeking in her Yard,
To speak my Errand ah! amaist I'm fear'd;
But I maun do't, tho' I fhou'd never thrive;
They gallop faft, that Deels and Laffes drive.

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This is all a Miftake of Bauldy taking a poor old Woman to be a Witch, because fo reputed; and very well expreffes the common Notions of ignorant People, about the Power of those, to whom they are pleased to afcribe the Art of Witchcraft, or practifing diabolical and fupernatural Charms.

The more this Paftoral paffes under our Eye, the more are we won to admire and praife it; every Reader may observe, that in many Love Dialogues,. either they are stuff'd with an unnatural and fulfome Fondness of the Woman, or fuch a Scorn and Way-wardhefs of Behaviour, which is fuppos'd to be put: on by her, to show and exert the Power she has over her Lover; but it is very feldom feen that the Man and Woman meet, in the Dialogues of the Poets, (which is very natural, and what they often do im Life) with a reciprocal Affection openly profefs'd to

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each other, and a plain Declaration of their mutual Intention of paffing the Remainder of their Lives together. I am afraid very few of our Poets (Paftotal Writer know I none) are able to paint fuch a Scene; it would keep them too closely confined to Nature, from whence they are fled far away; and, inftead of looking round on all Sides, opening each Ear, and ftudying Mankind and the Operations of Nature working every-where, look only into their own barren Bofoms, where is nothing but Stuff which they weave their Fuftian out of; they have added Pride to their Ignorance, and nothing, it is to be fear'd, can reform or do them good; nothing indeed is fo likely as good Example, which certainly, as the Proverb teaches, goes beyond Precept: But unhappily for them and us, thefe Gentlemen, tho' they write much, feldom or never read, except the Title-Pages of Books and Gildon's Dictionary of Rhymes; which a young Smatterer the other Day told us, had every Rhime of Mr. Pope's in it, except two or three Proper Names. Thus fet up for Poets they go to Work; the first Thing they attempt is a Song, where, after having wiredrawn one poor Thought 'till it will hold out no longer, they catch hold of fome falfe Image of Sentiment, and very mufically and nonfenfically conclude.

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One prays for Fruit, after gathering all the Blof foms from the Tree; another, that as the loud Thunder did not daunt nor wound him, so he mayn't die by the Lightning, which he supposes is to come after a Third fays, back to the Rivers let the Fountains flow; a Fourth deferibes a Miftrefs reclining over a Stream. Thefe, and fuch as thefe, are the bleft Effects of much Prefumption, a little dangerous Learning, and the Vanity of being call'd a Poet. Nor is it ftrange, that fome of these Songs are fet by more than one or

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two Compofers; for the Authors are hard to be put by, and do not easily take a Denial: Nay, they have been feen making a Voyage to another Kingdom, in Hopes to put Songs on Foot there, fuitable to what they imagine the Genius of the Nation.

But, dear Countrymen, pocket up your Mistakes, and know that it promises fair, there fhall be no Diftinction of Tafte between England and Ireland; and look up (we own it is a great Way up, and enough to dazzle fuch weak Eyes) to the Poets we have lately quoted: Make Mr. Pope your Example, and carefully read Mr. Allan Ramfay's Gentle Shep pherd, and the Songs there; fo by Degrees (if Nature has not positively denied it) you may, though perhaps late, get into the Road of Senfe and good Imitation; and for a Scene of reciprocal Love, fuch as but now we were speaking about, keep in Mind the following, which is inimitable, and yet quite beautiful:

Patie.

Here, where Primroses thickest paint the Green,
Hard by this little Burnie let us lean.
Hark how the Lav'rocks chant aboon our Heads,
How faft the Westlin Winds sough thro' the Reeds.

Peggy.

The fcented Meadows, Birds, and healthy Breeze, For ought I ken, may mair than Peggy please.

Patie. 7

Ye wrang me fair, to doubt my being kind;
In fpeaking fae, ye ca' me dull and blind.
Gif I could fancy aught's fae fweet or fair
As my fweet Meg, or worthy of my Care.

Larks.

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Thy Breath is sweeter than the sweetest Brier,
Thy Cheek and Breaft the finest Flowers appear.
Thy Words excel the maift delightfu' Notes,
That warble thro' the Merl or Mavis' Throtes.
With thee I tent nae Flowers that busk the Field,
Or ripeft Berries that our Mountains yield.
The fweetest Fruits, that hing upon the Tree,
Are far inferior to a Kifs of thee.

Peggy.

But Patrick for fome wicked End may * fleech, And Lambs fhould tremble when the Foxes preach. I darna ftay,---ye Joker, let me gang, Or fwear ye'll never tempt to do me Wrang.

Patie.

Sooner a Mother fhall her Fondness drap, And wrang the Bairn fits fmiling in her Lap. The Sun fhall change, the Moon to change fhall The Gaits to clim, the Sheep to yield the Fleece, [ceafe; Ere ought by me be either faid or done, Shall do thee Wrang, I swear by all aboon.

Peggy.

Then keep your Aith--But mony Lads will swear, And be manfworn to twa in Half a Year : Now I believe ye like me wonder well; But if anither Lafs your Heart fhou'd fteel, Your Meg, forfaken, bootlefs might relate How she was dauted anes by faithlefs Pate.

Patie.

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I'm fure I canna change, ye needna fear, Tho' we're but young I've loo'd you mony a Year. I mind it well. When thou cou'dft hardly gang, Or lifp out Words, I choos'd ye frae the Thrang M. 3

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