If e’er aw drink jacky again, May the bitch of a lass, ma adviser, Loup alive down ma throat, with a stane As big as a pulveriser. Rum te idily, &c.
These beauties must be now of some age, as they are unknown to the editor.
_Designed to be sung to the Harpsicord or Spinet, &c._
Tho’ lofty bards sublimer sing, And boldly tune their lays; Not less renown attends the string, Which sounds to beauty’s praise. Ye muses then lend me your aid, Whilst I attempt to prove, That in _Newcastle_ many a maid Excells the queen of love.
Ye bards, forbear your partial lays, Ye who so lofty sing, Nor longer only _Venus_ praise, But here your numbers bring. No more shall blinded mortals pray, Or bow before her shrine; No more in _Cyprus_ seek the bay, But find it here on _Tyne_.
First of yon throng, see _Delia_[18] shine, That matchless nonpareil! All eyes confess her form divine, Such graces round her dwell. Dame nature has herself outdone, In that most beauteous fair, And lavish’d all those charms on one, Which thousands only share.
Next her, behold the lovely _Cloe_[19], Ye gods! what killing eyes! See how her charming ringlets flow, Where wanton Cupid lies: The rose, compar’d to her, shall fade, The lily lose its white: E’en Sol himself must own the maid, And shine with beams less bright.
Thee, lovely _Cynthia_[20], next we sing, Charm’d with thy beauteous face, More blooming than the verdent spring, Adorn’d with ev’ry grace; Thy comely shape and genteel air, Our admiration raise, Thou stands confess’d a perfect fair, And worthy all our praise.
Thy mien, sweet _Daphne_[21], next we view, And as we view, approve; Thy blooming charms all hearts subdue, And kindle them to love: Those charming breasts, and sparkling eyes, What mortal can oppose? Still as we gaze, new beauties rise, And still the passion grows.
Gay _Sylvia_[22] next appears in sight, Surrounded by her charms, Her handsome form which shines so bright, Each youthful bosom warms. Ye youths withdraw your wishful eyes, Nor longer on her gaze; For were your hearts as cold as ice, Her beams would make them blaze.
Sweet _Celia_[23] next demands our care, That lovely nut-brown maid! Behold her charming flowing hair, In jetty locks display’d: She fills each bosom with desire, So graceful is her mein; Her comely features all admire, Where thousand loves are seen.