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Rh and the storm came on the weather and lee, The hope that I with her, should be harbou’d, was my cable and anchor;— Yo, yea And now my boys, would you believe me? I return’d with rhino from sea; Mrs Polly would never receive me so again I heav’d anchor!— Yo, yea.

WHEN poets lavish all their store, to paint a mistress gay; They prove not how their souls adore what their muse can say Fame, the great object of their vows, by varionsvarious [sic] names they woo; And, while to beauty fancy bows, their souls a breath pursue.

Me no such vain ambition moves ye bards, enjoy your fame! My heart can simply say it loves, and brave Montelia’s name Montelia’s charms so far excel, they make my soul their slave; She’s more at least, than I can tell; and all I wish to have!

By pleasure long infected, Kind heaven, when least expected, My devious path directed to Nan of Logie green;