XXXI. The Devonshire Nymph: Or

The Knight's happy Choice. Shewing how a young rich Knight fell in Love with the Daughter of a poor Weaver of Devonshire, and for her Beauty and Virtue marry'd her.

To the Tune of, Tender Hearts of London City.

The many Beauties, as well as Scarcity of this

Song, justly entitles it to a Place in this Collection; for having heard of it, I made it my Buliness to search the whole Town over for it, but all in vain, till meeting with a Gentlewoman who us’d to sing it, The favour'd me with a copy of it. Its Beauties I will not pretend to point out; they are so obvious, and indeed so frequent, that we have not time to admire one, before another presents itself to our Eyes ; and I believe those who are acquainted with Nature and easy Poetry, will acknowledge they have them here in their utmost Perfečtion.

How .

1

However, I cannot forbear taking Notice of

a beautiful Imitation of one of Martial's best Epigrams, in the three first lines of the second Stanza: The Epigram is this: Quicquid agit Rufus, nihil eft, nisi Navia Rufo

Si gaudet, fi fet, si tacet, hanc loquitur: Cænat, propinat, poscit, negat, annuit, una est

Nævia: Si non sit Navia, mutus erit. Scriberet hefternâ Patri, cum luce falutem,

Nævia lux, inquit, Navia numen, ave. For the Benefit of my Female Readers, I shall

give a Translation of this Epigram by a famous modern Hand, or rather an Imitation of it, for it is impossible to translate the Beauties of the second Line.

Let Rufus weep, rejoice, stand, fit or walk, Still he can nothing but of Nevia talk: Let him eat, drink, ask Questions, or dispute, Still he must talk of Nævia, or be mute. He writ to’s Father, ending with this Line, I am, my lovely Navia, ever thine.

N the West of Devonshire, IN

Liv'd a Maid of Beauty rare,
Pretty Peggy was her Name ;
Ev'ry Creature lov'd her Nature,

Pegoy there had all the Fame.
Wherefoever I am walking,
Or of whatsoever talking,

Pretty Peggy must come in,
She has so much Duty, and so much Beauty,
Not to worship were a Sin.

Fame

Fame that oftentimes doth flatter,
Told the Truth of all the Matter,

To a young and Worthy Knight,
One lov'd Pleasure, more than Treasure,

Beauty was his sole Delight.
Strait in Love he was involved,
And to try he was resolved,

Whether Peggy would be kind But he did never meet with ever

Such a Face, and such a Mind. When he first beheld the Creature, All her Charms were lent by Nature,

Neither Spots nor Tower she wore,
But she was singing, and a spining,

At her poor old Father's Door.
When she saw him she retired,
But his Senses all were fired

At the little Interview :
Oh! stay, he said, thou lovely Maid,

For now I swear Report is true.
Straitway then he did pursue her,
And with all his Art did woe her,

Kiss'd her Hands, and bless'd her Eyes,
Proferr'd Treasure for his Pleasure,

But, alas, she all denies.
Golden Promises he made her,
And with Vows he did perswade her,

But her Virtue was so strong,
That all his Art ne'er touch'd her Heart,

Altho' poor Peggy was but young.
Dearest Charmer be not cruel,
To yourself and me my Jewel,

Leave your homely rural Sport,
And be but mine, and thou shalt shine

Amongst the glorious Stars at Court.

All