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Sleep, sleep, alike unheeded now

The storm and zephyr sweep thy lifeless brow, That storm, whose rush is like thy martial lay, That breeze, which like thy love song dies

away.

BALLADS, SONGS, &c.

Black and blue eyes.

THE brilliant black eye

May in triumph let fly

All its darts, without caring who feels 'em;
But the soft eye of blue,

Though it scatter wounds too,

Is much better pleas'd when it heals 'em.
Dear Fanny! dear Fanny!

The soft eye of blue,

Though it scatter wounds too,

Is much better pleas'd when it heals 'em, dear Fanny!

The black eye may say,

"Come and worship my ray,

"By adoring perhaps you may move me!"
But the blue eye, half hid,

Says from under its lid,

"I love, and I'm yours, if you love me!"
Dear Fanny! dear Fanny!

The blue eye, half hid,

Says, from under its lid,

“I love, and am yours, if you love me!" dear Fanny,

Then tell me, oh! why,
In that lovely eye,

Not a charm of its tint I discover;
Or why should you wear

The only blue pair

That ever said "No" to a lover?

Dear Fanny! dear Fanny!
Oh! why should you wear

The only blue pair

That ever said "No" to a lover, dear Fanny?

Cease, oh! cease to tempt.

Cease, oh cease to tempt

My tender heart to love;

It never, never can

So wild a flame approve.

All its joys and pains

To others I resign;

But be the vacant heart,

The careless bosom mine.

Then cease, oh cease to tempt
My tender heart to love;

It never, never can

So wild a flame approve.

Say, oh! say no more,

That lovers' pains are sweet;

I never, never can

Believe the fond deceit.

Weeping day and night,
Consuming life in sighs-
This is the lover's lot,

And this I ne'er could prize.
Then say, oh! say no more
That lovers' pains are sweet;
I never, never can

Believe the fond deceit.

Dear Fanny.

She has beauty, but still you must keep your heart cool;

She has wit, but you must not be caught so;

Thus Reason advises, but Reason's a fool,

And 'tis not the first time I have thought so,
Dear Fanny.

"She is lovely!" then love her, nor let the bliss fly, 'Tis the charm of youth's vanishing season; Thus Love has advis'd me, and who will deny, That Love reasons much better than Reason, Dear Fanny?

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