TH

THE ROSE.

[COWPER.]

H E rose had been wash'd, just wash'd in a show'r, Which Mary to Anna convey'd,

The plentiful moisture encumber'd the flow'r,

And weigh'd down its beautiful head.

The cups were all fill'd, and the leaves were all wet,
And it seem'd, to a fanciful view,

To weep for the buds it had left with regret
On the flourishing bush where it grew.

I hastily seiz'd it, unfit as is was

For a nosegay, so dripping and drown'd,
And swinging it rudely, too rudely alas!
I snapp'd it, it fell to the ground.

And such I exclaim'd, is the pitiless part,
Some act by the delicate mind,
Regardless of wringing, and breaking a heart
Already to sorrow resign'd.

This elegant rose, had I shaken it less,

Might have bloom'd with its owner awhile, And the tear that is wip'd with a little address, May be follow'd perhaps by a smile,

F

SALLY IN OUR ALLEY.

[HENRY CAREY.]

Or 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 steets does cry 'em ;

Her mother she sells laces long,
To such as please to buy 'em :
But sure such folks could ne'er beget
So sweet a girl as Sally!

She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives our 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 full,
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;

But when my seven long years are out,
Oh then I'll marry Sally,

Oh then we'll wed, and then we'll bed, But not in our alley.

I

[VANBRUGH.]

SMILE at Love, and all his arts,
The charming Cynthia cried;

Take heed, for Love has piercing darts,
A wounded swain replied:

Once free, and bless'd, as you are now,
I trifled with his charms,
In pointed at his little bow,
And sported with his arms:

Till urg'd too far-revenge, he cries!
A fatal shaft he drew,

Which took its passage through your eyes,
And to my heart it flew :

To tear it thence I tried in vain,
To strive, I quickly found,
Was only to encrease my pain,
And mortify the wound;

Too well, alas! I fear you know,

What anguish I endure,

Since what your eyes alone could do,
Your heart alone can cure.

[H. CAREY.]

I'LL range around the shady bow'rs,
And gather all the sweetest flow'rs;
I'll strip the garden and the grove,
To make a garland for my love.

When in the sultry heat of day,
My thirsty nymph does panting lay,
I'll hasten to the fountain's brink,

And drain the stream that she may drink.