I HAVE been in love, and in debt, and in drink,
This many and many a year!

And those are three plagues enough, any should think,
For one poor mortal to bear!

'Twas Love made me fall into drink;

And drink made me run into debt!

And though I have struggled, and struggled, and

strove;

I cannot get out of them yet!

There's nothing but money can cure me;
And rid me of all my pain!
'Twill pay all my debts;

And remove all my lets!

And my Mistress, that cannot endure me,
Will love me, and love me again!

Then I'll fall to my loving and drinking amain!

UPON BLACK EYES, AND

BECOMING FROWNS.

BLACK Eyes! in your dark orbs do lie My ill, or happy, destiny!

If with clear looks you me behold;

You give me mines and mounts of gold!

If you dart forth disdainful rays;

To your own dye, you turn my days!

Black Eyes! in your dark orbs, by changes dwell, My bane, or bliss! my Paradise, or Hell!

That Lamp, which all the stars doth blind,
Yields to your lustre, in some kind;
Though you do wear, to make you bright,
No other dress but that of night.
He glitters only in the day;

You, in the dark, your beams display!
Black Eyes! in your two orbs, &c.

The cunning thief that lurks for prize,
At some dark corner watching lies:
So that heart-robbing God doth stand
In your black lobbies, shaft in hand,
To rifle me of what I hold

More precious far, than Indian gold!
Black Eyes! in your dark orbs, &c.

O, powerful negromantic eyes! Who in your circles strictly pries, Will find that CUPID, with his dart, In you, doth practise the Black Art; And, by those spells I am possest, Tries his conclusions in my breast.

Black Eyes! in your dark orbs, &c.

Look on me, though in frowning wise! Some kinds of frowns become Black Eyes; As pointed diamonds, being set,

Cast greater lustre out of jet.

Those pieces, we esteem most rare,

Which in night-shadows postured are!

Darkness in Churches congregates the sight!

Devotion strays in glaring light!

Black Eyes! in your dark orbs, &c.

A BALLAD WHEN AT SEA.

To you, fair Ladies, now at land,
We Men at sea indite;

But, first, would have you understand
How hard it is to write!

The Muses now, and NEPTUNE too,
We must implore, to write to you!
With a fa, la, la, la, la!

But though the Muses should be kind,
And fill our empty brain :

Yet if rough NEPTUNE cause the wind
To rouse the azure Main,

Our paper, pens, and ink, and we,
Roll up and down our ships at sea.
With a fa, la, la, la, la!

Then if we write not by each post,
Think not that we're unkind!
Nor yet conclude that we are lost
By Dutch, by French, or wind!

Cur greis will find a speeder way!
The ace stal bring them, twice a day!
Waa á à à la la!

The King, with wonder and surprise,
Wink the sea's grown boid!
For that the tide does higher rise
Than e'er it did of cid:

But let him know, that is our tears
Send foods of grief to Whitehall Stairs!
With a fa, la, la, la la!

Should Count TOULOUSE but come to know
Our sad and dismal story;
The French would scorn so weak a foe,
Where they can get no glory!

For what resistance can they find

From men, who've left their hearts behind! With a fa, la, la, la, la!

To pass our tedious time away,
We throw the merry Main;
Or else at serious Ombre play.
But why should we, in vain,
Each other's ruin thus pursue ?
We were undone, when we left you!
With a fa, la, la, la, la!