Page:Joys of the harvest.pdf/8

[ 8 ] May not my jewel be dimay'd,

with cruel wars alarm,

Some things in view may turn a prize,

till it fills my love-ick arm.

No cured gold nor beauty bright,

hall ever gain him from me,

But like the turtle I hall remain,

until he returns unto me.

No cotly robes, nor beds of down,

hall make me to urrender,

Although we part, he has my heart,

on board the Cambridge Tender.



 FAIR SUSANNA.

SK if yon damak roe be weet,

that cents the ambient air,

Then ak each hepherd that you meet,

if dear Suanna’s fair.

Say, will the vulture quit his prey,

and warble thro’ the grove!

Bid wanton linnets quit the pray,

then doubt thy hepherd’s love.

The poils of war let heroes hare,

let pride and plendor hine;

Ye bards, unenvy’d laurels wear,

be fair Suanna mine. FINIS.