Thine Am I, My Faithful Fair

     Tune—­“The Quaker’s Wife.”

     Thine am I, my faithful Fair,
     Thine, my lovely Nancy;
     Ev’ry pulse along my veins,
     Ev’ry roving fancy. 
     To thy bosom lay my heart,
     There to throb and languish;
     Tho’ despair had wrung its core,
     That would heal its anguish.

     Take away those rosy lips,
     Rich with balmy treasure;
     Turn away thine eyes of love,
     Lest I die with pleasure! 
     What is life when wanting Love? 
     Night without a morning: 
     Love’s the cloudless summer sun,
     Nature gay adorning.

On Mrs. Riddell’s Birthday

     4th November 1793.

     Old Winter, with his frosty beard,
     Thus once to Jove his prayer preferred: 
     “What have I done of all the year,
     To bear this hated doom severe?

     My cheerless suns no pleasure know;
     Night’s horrid car drags, dreary slow;
     My dismal months no joys are crowning,
     But spleeny English hanging, drowning.

     “Now Jove, for once be mighty civil. 
     To counterbalance all this evil;
     Give me, and I’ve no more to say,
     Give me Maria’s natal day! 
     That brilliant gift shall so enrich me,
     Spring, Summer, Autumn, cannot match me.” 
     “’Tis done!” says Jove; so ends my story,
     And Winter once rejoiced in glory.

My Spouse Nancy

     Tune—­“My Jo Janet.”

     “Husband, husband, cease your strife,
     Nor longer idly rave, Sir;
     Tho’ I am your wedded wife
     Yet I am not your slave, Sir.”

     “One of two must still obey,
     Nancy, Nancy;
     Is it Man or Woman, say,
     My spouse Nancy?’

     “If ’tis still the lordly word,
     Service and obedience;
     I’ll desert my sov’reign lord,
     And so, good bye, allegiance!”

     “Sad shall I be, so bereft,
     Nancy, Nancy;
     Yet I’ll try to make a shift,
     My spouse Nancy.”

     “My poor heart, then break it must,
     My last hour I am near it: 
     When you lay me in the dust,
     Think how you will bear it.”

     “I will hope and trust in Heaven,
     Nancy, Nancy;
     Strength to bear it will be given,
     My spouse Nancy.”

     “Well, Sir, from the silent dead,
     Still I’ll try to daunt you;
     Ever round your midnight bed
     Horrid sprites shall haunt you!”

     “I’ll wed another like my dear
     Nancy, Nancy;
     Then all hell will fly for fear,
     My spouse Nancy.”

Address

Spoken by Miss Fontenelle on her Benefit Night, December 4th, 1793, at the Theatre, Dumfries.