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Yes there, my friend! forlorn and fad,
I grave your THOMSON'S name;
And there, his lyre; which fate forbad
To found your growing fame.

There fhall my plaintive fong recount
Dark themes of hopeless woe;
And, fafter than the dropping fount,
I'll teach mine eyes to flow.

There leaves, in spite of Autumn, green,
Shall fhade the hallow'd ground;
And Spring will there again be feen,
To call forth flowers around.

But na kind funs will bid me fhare,
Once more, his focial hour;
Ah Spring! thou never canft repair
This lofs, to DAMON's bow'r.

JEMMY

JEMMY DAWSON,

A BALLAD; written about the Time of his
Execution, in the Year 1745.

OME liften to my mournful tale,

CON

Ye tender hearts and lovers dear; Nor will you fcorn to heave a figh, Nor need you blush to shed a tear.

And thou, dear KITTY, peerless maid,
Do thou a penfive ear incline;

For thou canft weep at every woe;
And pity every plaint-but mine.

Young DAWSON was a gallant boy,
A brighter never trod the plain;
And well he lov'd one charming maid,
And dearly was he lov'd again.

One tender maid, fhe lov'd him dear,
Of gentle blood the damfel came;
And faultlefs was her beauteous form,

And spotlefs was her virgin fame.

But

But curfe on party's hateful strife,
That led the favour'd youth aftray;
The day the rebel clans appear'd,
O had he never feen that day!

Their colours, and their fafh he wore,
And in the fatal drefs was found;
And now he must that death endure,
Which gives the brave the keenest wound.

How pale was then his true-love's cheek,
When JEMMY's fentence reach'd her ear!
For never yet did Alpine fnows
So pale, or yet fo chill appear.

With faultering voice, fhe weeping faid,
Oh DAWSON, monarch of my heart
Think not thy death shall end our loves,
For thou and I will never part.

Yet might fweet mercy find a place,
And bring relief to JEMMY's woes;
O GEORGE, without a pray'r for thee,
My orifons fhould never clofe.

The gracious prince that gave

him life,

Would crown a never-dying flame;

And every tender babe I bore

Should learn to lifp the giver's name.

But

But tho' he should be dragg'd in fcorn
To yonder ignominious tree;

He fhall not want one conftant friend
To fhare the cruel fates' decree.

O then her mourning coach was call'd,
The fledge mov'd flowly on before;
Tho' borne in a triumphal car,

She had not lov'd her fav'rite more.

She follow'd him, prepar'd to view,
The terrible behefts of law;
And the last scene of JEMMY's woes,
With calm and ftedfaft eye she saw.

Distorted was that blooming face,
Which fhe had fondly lov'd fo long;
And ftifled was that tuneful breath,
Which in her praise had fweetly fung

And fever'd was that beauteous neck,
Round which her arms had fondly clos'd;

And mangled was that beauteous breast,
On which her lovefick head repos'd:

And ravish'd was that conftant heart,
She did to ev'ry heart prefer;
For tho' it could its king forget,
'Twas true and loyal ftill to her.

Amid those unrelenting flames,"

She bore this conftant heart to fee; But when 'twas moulder'd into duft, Yet, yet, fhe cry'd, I follow thee.

My death, my death alone can fhew
The pure, the lafting love I bore;
Accept, O heav'n! of woes like ours,
And let us, let us weep no more.

The difmal fcene was o'er and past,
The lover's mournful hearfe retir'd;
The maid drew back her languid head,
And fighing forth his name, expir'd.

Tho' juftice ever must prevail,

The tear my KITTY fheds, is due;
For feldom fhall fhe hear a tale
So fad, fo tender, yet fo true.

A Paftoral

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