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Ye powers ! was Domon then so blest
10 Ye Gods! was Strephon's picture bleft
15 Ye gales that gently wave the sea
18 Ye watchful guardians of the fair
274 Yes I could love if I cou'd find
287 You may cease to complain Ye virgin powers, defend my heart
295 You that love mirth, attend to my song 299 Yes, all the world will sure agree
301 Ye highlands and ye lawlands Young Roger came tapping
370 Young Roger of the mill
379 Young virgins love pleasure
400 You meaner beauties of the night.
411 420 431
O W fweetly smells the fimmer green!
Sweet taste the peach and cherry ;
And claret makes us merry:
And wine, tho' I be thirsty,
Compar'd with those of Chrisly.
- 9 0
When wand'ring o'er the flow'ry park,
No nat'ral beauty wanting,
And birds in confort chanting ?
I'm rapt in admiration ;
And drap the hale creation.
Whene’er she smiles a kindly glance,
I take the happy omen,
Hoping she'll prove a woman :
My sentiments I smother ;
For fear the love another.
Thus fang blate Edie by a burn,
His Christy did o'er-hear him ;
But e'er he wist drew near him.
She spake her favour with a look,
Which left nae room to doubt her ; He wisely this white minute took,
And flang his arms about her.,
My Chrifty-witness, bonny stream,
Sic joys frae tears arising,
O love the maist surprising!
This point of a' his wishes
But war'd it a' on kisses.
The Bush aboon TRAQUAIR.
JEAR me, ye nymphs, and every swain,
I'll tell how Peggy grieves me, Tho' thus I languish, thus complain,
Alas! she ne'er believes me,
Unheeded never move her ;
'Twas there I first did love her.
That day she smil'd, and made me glad,
No maid seem'd ever kinder;
So sweetly there to find her.
In words that I thought tender ;
I meant not to offend her.
Yet now the scornful flees the plain,
The fields we then frequented ; If e'er we meet she shews disdain,
She looks as ne'er acquainted.
The bonny blush bloom'd fair in May,
Its sweets I'll ay remember ;
It fades as in December.
Ye rural powers, who hear my strains,
Why thus should Peggy grieve me? Oh! make her partner in my pains,
Then let her smiles relieve me.
My passion no more tender,
To lonely wilds I'll wander.
An O D E.
That smiles on Polwarth Green,
As 'tis by fancy seen : Yet all its different glories ly
United in thy face,
And vertue, like the sun on high,
So smooth, so calm her mind,
Each motion seems assign'd :
The joyful moments fly,
Kind am'rous Cupids, while
With tuneful voice she fings, Perfume her breach and smile, And wave their balmy wings :
But as the tender blushes rise,
Soft innocence doth warm, The soul in blissful extasies
Diffolveth in the charm.
TWEE D-SID E.
HAT beauties does Flora disclose ?
Tweed? Yet Mary's still sweeter than those ;
Both nature and fancy exceed. Nor daily, nor sweet blushing rose,
Not all the gay flowers of the field, Not Tweed gliding gently thro' those,
Such beauty and pleasure does yield. The warblers are heard in the grove,
The linnet, the lark, and the thrush, The blackbird, and sweet cooing dove,
With musick enchant ev'ry bush. Come, let us go forth to the mead,
Let us fee how the primroses spring, We'll lodge in some village on Tweed,
And love while the feather'd folks fing.
How does my love pass the long day? ?
Does Mary not ’tend a few sheep? Do they never carelesly stray,
While happily she lyes asleep?
Kind nature indulging my bliss,
I'd steal an ambrosial kiss.
'Tis she does the virgins excell,
No beauty with her may compare ; Love's graces
all round her do dwell, She's faireft, where thousands are fair.