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The Girl I love.

Let Poets their mistresses' praises rehearse,
And adorn each proud fair with a fiction of verse.
A goddess and I should, I'm sure, ne'er agree,
For the girl that I love is a mortal like me.

Kind Nature has blest her with charms, I must own,
But for these she's indebted to Nature alone;
No art, no design in my Ellen I see,
For the girl that I love is a mortal like me.

Health blooms on her cheek, virtue smiles in her eye,
I love her most dearly, I'll tell her for why,
She laughs, sings, and dances is lively and free,
And, in truth, she’s no more than a mortal like me.

I apply not to Venus nor Cupid for aid,
But apply where I love, to my beautiful maid;
This alono the fond wish of my bosom shall be,
Love a mortal, dear Ellen, and let him be me.



The Done-over Taylor.

A taylor I was once, as blythe as may be,
Until love, alas! most wretched made me.
I was once so lusty, I was call'd Will the Rover,
But now I'm a skeleton and fairly done over.

A5