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LUCY. A SONG

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THY favourite Bird is soaring still:

My Lucy, haste thee o’er the dale;

The Stream’s let loose, and from the Mill

All silent comes the balmy gale;

Yet; so lightly on its way, 5

Seems to whisper, ‘Holiday.’

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HUNTING SONG

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YE darksome Woods where Echo dwells,

Where every bud with freedom swells

To meet the glorious day:

The morning breaks; again rejoice;

And with old Ringwood’s well-known voice 5

Bid tuneful Echo play.

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SONG. THE SHEPHERD AND HIS DOG ROVER

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ROVER, awake! the grey Cock crows!

Come, shake your coat and go with me!

High in the East the green Hill glows;

And glory crowns our shelt’ring Tree.

The Sheep expect us at the fold: 5

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NANCY. A SONG

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YOU ask me, dear Nancy, what makes me presume

That you cherish a secret affection for me?

When we see the Flow’rs bud, don’t we look for the Bloom?

Then, sweetest, attend, while I answer to thee.

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ROSY HANNAH. A SONG

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A SPRING o’erhung with many a flow’r,

The grey sand dancing in its bed,

Embank’d beneath a Hawthorn bower,

Sent forth its waters near my head:

A rosy Lass approach’d my view; 5

I caught her blue eye’s modest beam:

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ON HEARING OF THE TRANSLATION OF THE FARMER’S BOY INTO LATIN; By the Rev Mr C———

HEY Giles! in what new garb art dress’d?

For Lads like you methinks a bold one;

I’m glad to see thee so caresst;

But, hark ye!—don’t despise your old one.

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A WORD TO TWO YOUNG LADIES

WHEN tender Rose-trees first receive

On half-expanded Leaves, the Shower;

Hope’s gayest pictures we believe,

And anxious watch each coming flower.

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Then, if beneath the genial Sun 5

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SONG FOR A HIGHLAND DROVER RETURNING FROM ENGLAND

⁽¹⁾

[First published as ‘Song, for a Highland Drover, returning from England’ in The Monthly
Mirror, 12 (September 1801), 195–96.]

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THE FRENCH MARINER: A BALLAD

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AN Old French Mariner am I,

Whom Time hath render’d poor and gray;

Hear, conquering Britons, ere I die,

What anguish prompts me thus to say.

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