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236

THE COUNTRY INN.

WORSHIPTON (to Piper).

I thank you, sir; your music is excellent: it is both martial and plaintive.—But where is our little warbler? Ha! here she comes.

Enter Sally.

Come, my good girl, can you sing the song I gave you?

SALLY.

Yes, sir.

WORSHIPTON.

Let us have it then.

SONG.

Ah, Celia, beauteous, heavenly maid!
    In pity to thy shepherd's heart,
Thus by thy fatal charms betray'd,
    The gentle balm of hope impart.

Ah! give me hope in accents sweet,
    Sweet as thy lute's melodious strain;
I'll lay my laurels at thy feet,
    And bless the hour that gave me pain.

WORSHIPTON.

Very well sung, indeed. (to Hannah.) Don't you think, my charming Hannah, we have had music enough?