A SONG. I. SHALL Pope sing his flames With quality dames, And dutchesses toast when he dines; Shall Swift ballads compose On the girls at the Rose, Whilst unsung is my fair Charlotte Lynes? II. O! were Phoebus my friend, Or would Bacchus but lend Me the spirits that flow from his wines, The lass of the mill, Molly Mogg, and Lepell, Shou'd be dowdies to fair Charlotte Lynes. III. The astronomer cries Look up to yon skies, And view the bright heavenly signs; For a sight brighter far Than sun, moon, or star, Let him look at my fair Charlotte Lynes. IV. The miser for gain Thinks nothing of pain, And contentedly digs in the mines: Let him take all Peru, And rich Mexico too, What are these to my fair Charlotte Lynes? V. Any porter may serve For a copy to carve An Alcides with muscular chines; But a Venus to draw, Bright as eye ever saw, He must copy my fair Charlotte Lynes. VI. The favourite child, Whom her fondness has spoil'd, For mamma often whimpers and whines; And this hour let me die But I languish and sigh, When I'm absent from fair Charlotte Lynes. VII. For quadrille when the fair Cards and counters prepare, They cast out the tens, eights, and nines; And in love 'tis my fear The like fate I shall share, Discarded by fair Charlotte Lynes. VIII. Astrologers prove The conjunctions above, With their houses, squares, circles, and signs: But oh! could they show One conjunction below Between me and my fair Charlotte Lynes. IX. With hearts full of rapture, Our good dean and chapter Count over, and finger their fines: But I'd give their estate, Was it ten times as great, For one kiss from my fair Charlotte Lynes. X. In the midst of gay sights, And foreign delights, For his country the banish'd man pines: Thus from her when away, Tho' my eyes they may stray, Yet my heart is with fair Charlotte Lynes. XI. Antiquity's page, The rev'rend sage Explains from old medals and coins; But no comment so fit On youth, beauty, and wit, Can they find as my fair Charlotte Lynes. XII. It is Atropos' sport With her sheers to cut short The thread which dame Lachesis twines: But forbear, you curst jade, Or cut mine, not the thread That was spun for my fair Charlotte Lynes. XIII. The young pair for a crown, On his book paid him down, The sacrist obsequiously joins; Was I bishop, I swear I'd resign him my chair, To unite me with fair Charlotte Lynes. XIV. For my first night I'd go To those regions of snow, Where the sun for six months never shines; And, oh! there shou'd complain He too soon came again To disturb me with fair Charlotte Lynes. XV. The pastures, the sheep, Shall exchange for the deep, And mackrel shall grow on the vines; The sun shall burn blue, Ere my heart proves untrue, Or forgets to love fair Charlotte Lynes.