( si )
No eyes thole rocks difcover, That lurk beneath the deep ;
To wreck the wand'ring lover, And leave the maid to weep.
All melancholy lying,
Thus wail'd (lie for her dear ; Repaid each blaft *vith fighing,
Each billow with her tear : When o'er the white waves (looping,
His floating corpfe me fpy'd ; Then like a lily drooping,
She bow'd her head and died.
��TOBY PHILPOT.
ir, this brown jug, that now foams with
mild ale,
Out of which I now drink to fweet Kate of the vale, Was once Toby Philpot, a thirfty old foul, As e'er crack'd a bottle, or fathom'd a bowl : In boozing about, 'twas his praife to excel, And amongft jolly topers he bore off the belle.
It chanc'd as in dog days, he fat at his cafe, In his flovy'r woven arbor, as gay as you pleafe ; With his friend and his pipe, whiffing iorrow a way, And with honeft old Stingo, fat foaking his clay : His breath-doors of life, on a fudden were (hut, And he died full as big as a Dorchefter butt.
His body, when long in the ground it had lain,
And time into clay had ciiflolv'd it again,
A potter found out in its covert fo Inug,
And with part of old Toby he form'd the brown jug.
Now facred to friendOiip, to mirth, and mild ale,
bo here's to my lovely fweet Kate of the vale.
F 2 THE
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