( 3 ) In Scotland he's deem'd, And highly eſteem'd, In England he ſeemeth a ſtranger to be; Yet his fame ſhall remain, In France and in Spain; All bleſs on my Black Bird wherever be be. What if the ſowler my Black Bird has taken, Then ſighing and lobbing will be ail my time But if he is ſafe I'll not be forſaken, And hope yet to ſee him in May or in June, For him through the fire, Through mud and through mire, I'll go ; for I love him to ſuch a degree, Who is conſtant and kind, And noble of mind, Deſerving all bleſſings wherever he be. It is not the ocean can fright me with danger, Nor though, like a pilgrim, I wander forlorn, I may meet with friendſhip of one who's a ſtranger, More than of one that in Britain is born. I pray heav'n ſo ſpacious, TO Britain be gracions, Tho' ſome there be odious to both him and me, Yer joy and renown, And laurels ſhall crown, My Black-Bird with honour wherever he be.
Love is the cauſe of my Mourning. BY a murmuring ſtream a fair ſhepherdeſs lay, Be ſo kind, O ye nymphs, I oft-times heard her ſays Tell Strephon I die, if he paſſes this way, And that love is the cauſe of my mourning, Falſe ſhepherds, that tell me of beauty and charms, Deceive me, for Strephon's cold heart never warms, Yet bring me this Strephon, let me die in his arms, Oh Strephon! the cauſe of my mourning
