[7]
The other ſtruck her colours now,
but, oh! too late his life to ſave,
For, e'er the hoſtile flag was low,
a ſhot had mark'd him for the grave.
BONNY BELL.
IN fair Edina dwelt a maid,
not of high birth, nor low,
'Tis not material when, I trow;
but 'tis not long ago.
Howe'er this Laſs of Laſſes was
much for beauty fam'd;
Each foppling that could read and write,
her praiſe in verſe proclaim'd.
Ye god's! ſhe was a virgin fair,
none could her charms excel;
No roſe in Ekron's vale could e'er
compare with bonny Bell.
For her full long did Strephon whine,
for her he rack'd his breaſt;
But no fond flatt'rer could engage
this Helen of the weſt.
Ignaro next the fair addreſs'd,
he too a paſſion feign'd;
Plutus in vain did urge his ſuit,
but both the maid diſdain'd.
At laſt grave Damon made his ſuit,
