She would have spoke, but shame deny'd,
And bid her first consult her Pride;
But soon she found that Aid was gone;
For Love alas had left her none:
Oh how she burns, but 'tis too late,
For in her Eyes she reads her Fate.
SONG.
To a New Scotch Tune.
I.
Young Jemmy was a Lad,
Of Royal Birth and Breeding,
With ev'ry Beauty Clad:
And ev'ry Grace Exceeding;
A face and shape so wondrous fine,
So Charming ev'ry part:
That every Lass upon the Green:
For Jemmy had a Heart.
II.
In Jemmy's Powerful Eyes,
Young Gods of Love are playing,
And on his Face there lies
A Thousand Smiles betraying.
But Oh he dances with a Grace,
None like him e'er was seen;
No God that ever fancy'd was,
Has so Divine a Miene.
III.
To Jemmy ev'ry Swaine
Did lowly doff his Bonnet;
And every Nymph would strain,
To praise him in her Sonnet:
The Pride of all the Youths he was,
The Glory of the Groves,
The Joy of ev'ry tender Lass:
The Theam of all our Loves.
IV.
But Oh Unlucky Fate,
A Curse upon Ambition:
The Busie Fopps of State
Have ruin'd his Condition.
For Glittering Hopes he'as left the Shade,
His Peaceful Hours are gone:
By flattering Knaves and Fools betray'd,
Poor Jemmy is undone.