Then Mary! since nor gems, nor ore,
Can with thy brighter self compare,
Consider that I offer more,

Than glittering gems, a soul sincere :
Let riches meaner beauties move,

Who pays thy worth, must pay in love.

[This very beautiful Song is printed with many variations. I have selected the most poetical for the text, instead of " then Mary" some read "O Silvia ?" It has been imputed to Gay ?]

Of all the girls that are so smart,
There's none like pretty Sally;

She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
There is no lady in the land
Is half so sweet as Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.

Her father he makes cabbage nets,

And through the streets does cry 'em ;

Her mother she sells laces long,

To such as please to buy 'em:
But sure such folks cou'd ne'er beget
So sweet a girl as Sally;

She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

When she is by, I leave my work,

I love her so sincerely;
My master comes like any Turk,
And bangs me most severely :
But let him bang his belly full,
I'll bear it all for Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.

Of all the days that's in the week,
I dearly love but one day,

And that's the day that comes betwixt
The Saturday and Monday.

For then I'm drest in all my best,
To walk abroad with Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.

My master carries me to church,
And often am I blamed,
Because I leave him in the lurch,
As soon as text is named:
I leave the church in sermon-time,
And slink away to Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.

When Christmas comes about again,
O! then I shall have money;
I'll hoard it up and box and all,
I'll give it to my honey:

I wou'd it were ten thousand pound,
I'd give it all to Sally;

She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

My master, and the neighbours all,
Make game of me and Sally;
And (but for her) I'd better be
A slave and row a galley;

But when my seven long years are out,
O! then I'll marry Sally,

O! then we'll wed, and then we'll bed,
But not in our alley.

[Carey in the third Edition of his Poems published in 1729, before "the Ballad of Sally in our Alley" has placed this note :

The Argument.

"A vulgar error having long prevailed among many persons, who imagine Sally Salisbury the subject of this ballad, the Author begs leave to undeceive and assure them it has not the least allusion to her, he being a stranger to her very name at the time this Song was composed. For as innocence and virtue were ever the boundaries to his Muse, so in this little poem he had no other view than to set forth the beauty of a chaste and disinterested passion, even in the lowest class of human life. The real occasion was this: a Shoemaker's 'Prentice making holiday with his Sweetheart, treated her with a sight of Bedlam, the puppet-shews, the flying-chairs, and all the elegancies of Moor-fields: from whence proceeding to the Farthingpyc-house, he gave her a collation of buns, cheese-cakes, gammon of bacon, stuff'd beef, and bottled ale; through all which scenes the Author dodg'd them (charm'd with the simplicity of their courtship), from whence he drew this little sketch of nature; but being then young and obscure, he was very much ridiculed by some of his acquaintance for this performance; which nevertheless made its way into the polite world, and amply recompensed him by the applause of the divine Addison, who was pleased (more than once) to mention it with approbation," p. 127.

This highly interesting note I have never seen added to any copy of the Song but that contained among the Author's works.]

LOVE AND JEALOUSY.

HARRY CAREY.

Tho' cruel you seem to my pain,
And hate me because I am true;
Yet, Phillis, you love a false swain,
Who has other nymphs in his view.
Enjoyment's a trifle to him,

To me what a heaven 'twould be!
To him but a woman you seem,
But ah! you're an angel to me:

Those lips which he touches in haste,
To them I for ever could grow,
Still clinging around that dear waist,
Which he spans as beside him you go;
That arm, like a lily so white,

Which over his shoulders you lay,
My bosom could warm it all night,
My lips they could press it all day.

Were I like a monarch to reign,
Were graces my subjects to be,
I'd leave them, and fly to the plain,
To dwell in a cottage with thee.
But if I must feel your disdain,
If tears cannot cruelty drown,
O! let me not live in this pain,
But give me my death in a frown.

LOVE ECSTATIC.

HARRY CAREY.

To be gazing on those charms,
To be folded in those arms,
To unite my lips to those,
Whence eternal sweetness flows.
To be lov'd by one so fair,

Is to be blest beyond compare!

On that bosom to recline,

While that hand is lock'd in mine,
In those eyes myself to view,
Gazing still, and still on you.

To be lov'd by one so fair,
Is to be blest beyond compare.

["Honest Harry introduced this Song with a slight alteration, as a duet, in his little interlude of Nancy, or the Parting Lovers.' It appears however from his poems to have been written long before." RITSON.]

LOVE'S A RIDDLE.

HARRY CAREY.

The flame of love assuages,
When once it is reveal'd;

But fiercer still it rages,
The more it is conceal'd.

Consenting makes it colder;
When met it will retreat:
Repulses make it bolder,

And dangers make it sweet.